An Nighean Air Chall
by inkbolt93
Summary: At a wedding in Inverness Elsie's boyfriend ends their relationship suddenly. Alone and hurt Elsie takes a walk in the highlands and finds herself lost in an unknown place and, shockingly, an unknown time. Trying to aquaint herself with a time much different than her own Elsie finds herself leaning on the guidence of a handsome redhead with a cheeky grin. Jamie/OC
1. Chapter 1

She could feel the rain water dripping down her back, cold at the start of the drip, but a warm little pool by the time it reached the small of her back, kept warm by the combination of the tartan wrapped around her and the body heat of the man to whom it belonged. She could feel her thighs chaffing with each trot of the horse. She had never ridden a horse before.

The ride was long, and for the most part silent, it gave the girl plenty of time to question how the hell she had ended up in this situation, cold, wet, afraid and surrounded by strangers. Her name was Elsie May Duncan, and from what she could tell, she appeared to have travelled through time without the aid of a Tardis.

It sounds utterly ridiculous, and if she were able to locate an insane asylums or looney bins, or whatever the god damned politically correct term was in this time then the girl would happily submit herself to it so as to have a psychiatric evaluation. She believed that something had happened that had caused her to crack. Admittedly, it hadn't been the best of days for Elsie even before she was hurtled back through time and shot at by red coats, but now we're skipping ahead. To truly understand our protagonist we need to go back to the beginning.

Elsie Duncan, second of her name, was born in London on October nineteenth 1995 and it was in London where she spent the early years of her life. Elsie's mother, Anne, was London born and raised, a high flying business woman in some kind of field that Elsie had been too young to understand and no one ever really explained to her in any depth. It was from her father where she got her name. Angus Duncan was from the Scottish Isle of Skye and that was where he spent the first nineteen years of his life, but in his desperation to escape the wilderness of rural Scotland he had run away to the big city to become a lawyer and never returned other than for short visits.

Elsie didn't remember much of her London Childhood, but from what she could remember it was a happy one. She had been taken on picnics in the park, and stories were told to her, while she was cosied with her parents around the old fireplace in the living room of the creaky old flat, in the winter. Elsie was eight years old when tragedy first stuck her previously unmarred childhood. It had been a normal day, she had had her breakfast and was packed off to school. It was before lunch time that she was sent for, her father had suffered from a heart attack while at work, the result of a heart condition gone undetected. He was taken away from her and she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye.

This period of time, after her father's dead, Elsie could recall vividly, as though watching it back in HD, the emotions and memories were painfully clear. She remembered her, previously, strong and capable mother falling apart. She could remember bills going unpaid and dinners going unmade. She remember being hungry and scared for the firsts time in her life, and she remembered not liking either sensation much at all. The cupboards were empty because her mother couldn't bring herself to go shopping. She didn't go to work. She didn't cook, or clean. She didn't do anything at all. She just sat there, in her husband's chair, staring out of the window to the London streets, unseeing.

The months of hunger and fear when her mother wouldn't respond to her questions or hug her when she cried felt endless to Elsie, but in truth it only went on for three or four months. The depression that Anne Duncan suffered from was all consuming and something that she had no idea how to begin to recover from. Elsie had been the one to find Anne's body. She had been the one to call the ambulance when she arrived home from school on a beautifully bright and sunny Tuesday afternoon to find her mother passed out in a pool of her own vomit on the living room floor.

It was something that haunted Elsie for decades to come. You see, her father hadn't had a choice when it came to leaving Elsie alone in this world, but her mother had. She could have tried harder to pull herself back, she could have loved Elsie more than she hated living in a world without her husband. But she didn't and she opted out, and that was something which took Elsie falling deeply and head over heels, into an all-consuming love herself, to even begin to understand or start to start forgiving.

Being an orphan hadn't been what Elsie expected. She wasn't like any of the heroines from the novels she had read. She didn't feel like Mary from The Secret Garden, or Sara from A Little Princess. She couldn't even relate to her favourite orphan, Harry Potter, or any of the orphaned Disney princesses. Instead Elsie just felt a sort of hollow emptiness.

In the month after her mother's death not a word passed Elsie's mouth. She watched silently as the ambulance people wheeled her mother's body away, never to be seen again. During her month of silence Elsie's whole life was turned on its head. Her life in London was packed up, loose ends were tied and Elsie was taken from the urban of London to the quaint wilderness of Skye. Her Granny, for all that she was the woman for whom she was named, hadn't been someone that Elsie had known very well before being thrust upon her. Of course there had been the obligatory family visits, the two weeks they spent there every other summer, the last of which had been perhaps two summers before her father had died. That was, however, the only interaction other than phone calls and birthday cards that Elsie had ever had with the woman.

Elsie Duncan – the first of her name – became what Elsie wanted to be when she grew up. The woman had the patience of a saint. She didn't try to force Elsie into speaking before she was ready. She just filled the silence with chatter and warmth and freshly baked bread and scones, seasoned with her own herbs. Yes Granny had been exactly what Elsie had needed, warm patient and loving, and in not pushing her, the old woman gained Elsie's respect.

Granny had always been old. She was already in her early seventies when she brought Elsie home with her to Skye, her husband, had passed away years earlier when he was a fairly young man, a heart attack similar to the one that would claim his son. She had long since retired from her years of service as a nurse and a midwife, though she would still go when called, if there was a particularly difficult birth. Regardless of her age and the stigma that retirement was meant for relaxing, granny was very active and she liked to include little Elsie in her activities. Her early years were informative as she learned about all of the herbs in Granny's garden and what they could do, other than flavouring your bread. Granny had Elsie keeping herb and berry journals from the start, claiming that this was valuable information that one day she could need. As summers and winters came and went and Elsie grew from a little girl into a young woman she kept herself immersed in her grandmother's work. She may not ever need to know the properties of peppermint other than that it was great for digestion and helped her period pains, but regardless of that it was there in her journal.

Despite the fact that Elsie had spent so much of her life in Scotland, the lilt of her London accent never quite left her. Of course there were certain words and phrases that took on a Scottish colouring, but for the most part she kept a little piece of Englishness with her. Her Granny claimed that it was because it was an integral part of her identity, never to be forgotten. It was her mother's side of the family. After all, her Scottishness was stamped all over her with a name like Elsie Duncan.

Her childhood on Skye was peaceful. Despite the sadness of her early life, Elsie wouldn't have changed a thing about the years that she spent with Granny, learning about the wildflowers and berries. She helped to deliver her first lamb the spring after she had arrived, and was completely enthralled by it. Bringing new life into the world, it seemed like a miracle to little Elsie, honestly, it still seemed like a miracle to grown up Elsie which was why she decided to study to become a veterinarian when the time came for her to go away to University.

Elsie was still only seventeen years old when her acceptance to study Veterinary and Animal Care at Aberdeen University. Granny had been over the moon, she couldn't have been any more proud. Despite now being in her early 80s granny was still very mobile. While Elsie had her reservations about leaving her on her own, the old lady wouldn't hear anything of it. She sent Elsie off to the big bad Grey City to "follow her dreams and go down a road of self-discovery". Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Aberdeen was different to Skye. Very different. For one thing, people only spoke English, Elsie was used to half of the population around her slipping into Gaelic despite the fact that she could, for the most part, understand what was being said, Elsie had never picked up speaking Gaelic. She could read all of the signs, but that was because they were right there alongside the English words for her to learn. In Aberdeen the signs didn't have a Gaelic translation beside them, they were just in English. No one looked at her funnily because of her accent. People didn't assume that she was a tourist when they heard her speak, like they always had back home. There were so many different types of people, from all over Scotland, all over the UK, heck from all over the world.

Elsie loved university, she threw herself into it head first and embraced it as much as she could. She did the obligatory drunk fresher, thing. She met everyone and anyone, then a few weeks in knuckled down to work, because Uni Essays were harder than school ones and you had to format them correctly. It was in the library that she met Graeme McKinnon. He was in his final year of a History degree and was writing his dissertation, which meant he never left the place. Elise wasn't sure how they got talking, but they did. And talking in the library turned into coffee, which turned into dinner, which turned into drinks, and a few weeks later turned into a boyfriend.

Elsie hadn't been looking for a relationship! That was what she had told Granny when she came home for Christmas, full of big city anecdotes and Aberdeen Butteries. She spent her winter break cosied up by the fire with cups of tea, clean sheets and clothes and basking in that feeling of being _Home._ Looking back on it, Elsie wished that she had basked in it just a little more than she had, because come Hogmanay she was back off to University and her boyfriend, so full of excitement for the future that she barely looked back at Granny.

It was March when she got the call. She had been in a lecture at the time and had to excuse herself the second time her phone started buzzing in the space of a few minutes. Her world came crumbling down around her, painfully, terrifyingly. Elsie could hear the keening cry that was echoing around the corridor, but she didn't recognise that it was coming from her.

Granny was dead.

Her Granny. Her namesake. The woman who had raised her and taught her about the world was dead. The person on the phone had told her that it was peacefully and in her sleep, if that made her feel any better. In the moment it hadn't. Because Elsie was just eighteen years old, not even finished her first year at Uni and that was it. She was completely alone in the world.

She didn't have anyone.

Graeme was an absolute Godsend in those next few weeks. He went with her to Skye, he wouldn't hear anything about how he should be working on his dissertation or his final essays, or anything. He was just there for her. The funeral was beautiful, it was everything that granny would have wanted. People spoke, told tales of her life, and the wonderful things that she had done for them. Elsie gave a eulogy that made people laugh and cry in all the right bits.

Elsie left the clearing out of things until the summer. She couldn't stay in Skye, not right then. Not when it felt all wrong because it was home, but it was home without the person who made it home. And that wasn't much of a home at all.

Summer came and went and Elsie had to get on with her life. She moved out of her student flat and, at his suggestion, in with Graeme. He had graduated with First Class Honours over the summer and was staying on at Uni to do his PhD and expanding his dissertation thesis about 1700s Scotland, right before the changing of the ways. It was interesting, and Elsie found herself learning an awful lot about her boyfriend's studies over dinner and their evening cups of tea.

The relationship was easy. They spent time together, they spent time apart, they were both busy with their studies and part time jobs that had to be taken on to keep themselves afloat. Years came and went and before she knew it Elsie was twenty one years old and starting her final year of uni. She was also filled with a niggling feeling that something was wrong. Something that she couldn't put her finger on, so she kept her head buried deep in the sand.

It had all came to a head when they were visiting his family in Inverness for his sister's wedding. A wedding on Halloween would have been utterly ridiculous for anyone else, but it just fitted Allison down to a tee. She had always enjoyed the supernatural. Graeme had told Elsie plenty of stories about their childhood and the things that had gotten up to around All Hallows Eve. It should have been such a happy occasion.

It was the morning of the wedding and Graeme had had a face like thunder. It had been that way since they had woken up. Elsie had been busy getting ready. She was pleating her hair, pinning it in the right way so that it sat perfectly and wouldn't budge despite the outdoor wedding. She had her make up done, her full length lilac gown zipped and her pashmina was wrapped around her shoulders before she turned to Graeme.

"Right, out with it. Your face's been tripping you from the moment you got up, what's wrong?" She demanded of him, bluntly, her hand on her hip. She thought that, maybe, if she acted like this was something they could brush off, then it would be something that they could brush off.

The look on his face said otherwise. He hesitated before speaking. "Elsie, maybe now isn't the best time for this."

Her face fell a little, but she tried not to let the realisation slip into her consciousness. Surely it couldn't be what she was thinking. "Don't be daft, there's not time like the present and you can't spend Ali's wedding with a long face, so why don't you just say it?" There was a steely edge to her voice at that last statement. She didn't really want him to say the words but in her foolish confrontation she could see what was going to happen, where this was going.

His face crumpled. "Elsie things haven't been right for a while." She could feel her head spinning as he started what was clearly a well thought out break up speech. They had gotten together so young, she had only been seventeen, he only twenty one. Elsie had just turned twenty one now and honestly she didn't think that it seemed all that young. Still she couldn't fault his argument, they didn't look at each other the way that Allison and Mark did. Still it left her reeling. She sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.

She didn't have anyone left.

Graeme had been the family that she had built for herself in the wake of her grandmother's death, she had spent Christmases and summers with her parents and siblings, exploring Inverness and going on the occasional boat trip looking for Nessie.

She had a few friends of course, but none whom she could say she was particularly close to, certainly no one she would feel comfortable asking for help at a time like this.

The silence was ringing in her ears, he couldn't say anything and right now she didn't have any words for him. "You should get going. You're meant to be showing people to their seats." Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. Rough. It was clear that she was holding back tears. "If you can, don't let Ali know I wasn't there… it's her day. Let's not make this about us and your awful timing." The laughter that bubbled at the back of her throat was as close as she got to hysterics.

"Elsie, you should still come to the ceremony," He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, and Elsie looked at him. Really looked at him, he was everything that she had thought about when she was younger, he was tall and handsome, he had such lovely blonde hair and blue eyes. She broke their eye contact as he continued. "Ali invited you, she wants you there. You know how much she loves you."

Elsie nodded her head. "Graeme you've just stripped away the closest thing to family I have left in my life." She heard the crack in her voice and she could feel the hot tears burning her eyes. "Don't you dare try to guilt me into going with you to this wedding. Because it will end with a scene, and Ali will never forgive either of us." Elsie let out a short laugh. "Not that it matters for me, I suppose. It isn't like I'll be seeing her around anymore." The hurt flashed in her eyes, and she could feel the undercurrent of anger bubbling inside her. "Could you have had worse timing?" She demanded of him.

Anger flashed in Graeme's eyes. "You're the one who demanded I come out with it! Don't act like you hadn't seen this coming."

Elsie raised her arms to silence him. "I can't do this right now. I can't speak to you like this." She pulled the soft fabric of her pashmina around her shoulders as she got to her feet. "I'm going for a walk. Give your sister my best wishes and I hope it's a beautiful ceremony. Do try not to shack up with one of the bridesmaids now that you're a free agent, won't you?"

Her remark was scathing and petty as she threw it over her shoulder, ignoring his indignant spluttered reply as she left out the back door.

She couldn't feel anything as she walked away, not thinking about direction, or distance or how she would get back. She didn't know how long she had been walking before she started to feel the breeze on her face. It was the breeze which caused the tears in her eyes, she told herself. She wasn't crying. She couldn't let herself, no one was dead. She had known that it was coming, if she was being honest with herself she had, but knowing that something was coming and it actually happening were two different things.

She had been so dependent on Graeme. He was her rock, he was the one she would talk to about everything. He would proof read her essays for university, he would listen to her when she would get excited about the pieces of practical work she had done. He would let her prattle on, and in return she would listen to his research. He went with her to Morrison's for their weekly shop evert Sunday afternoon. He taught her how to make perfect roast tatties for their Sunday dinner. They would go for walks to the park in the rain to feed the ducks and eat ice cream, because in cold weather your ice cream didn't melt. They lived together. Who was going to keep the flat? Could she even afford to keep their little one bed on her own? Prices in Aberdeen were extortionate. She was going to have to find a room in a flat with other people. People who wouldn't want to adhere to their TV schedule and know that 9pm was when they had the last cup of tea of the day. Only it wouldn't be a 'They' anymore. Just a Her.

Elsie's mind was racing, and she kept walking and walking until she came to the top of a hill. She was out of breath, though if that was from the exertion of walking up the hill or from the sobs that were being ripped from her chest she wasn't entirely sure. There at the top of the hill was a circle of stones there. In the back of her mind she recognised that they were familiar to her, she was certain that Graeme would have told her about it before, but she didn't much care right now. It felt to her like she had walked far enough and reached the destination she needed to be for now.

Stumbling over to the largest stone, she sat down amidst the grass and the dirt. Her pretty lilac dress was likely getting ruined but she didn't care. She had paused and that was all it took: the floodgates opened and she allowed her heart to break. She cried over the loss of her best friend, and the future that she had hoped for with him. She cried because it was unfair that she should have to be so dependent on a relationship at such an early age, and she cried because she had no idea what she was going to do. She cried until her eyes were puffy, her nose was stuffy, and her head felt like it was full of cotton wool and it was then that she stood up to make her way back to Graeme's family home and pack her bags to go back to Aberdeen. She could be out of the flat before he got back from the wedding celebrations.

At least that was her plan.

However something else happened when she put her hands on that rock to steady herself rising something happened, something that Elsie could never have expected, nor thought possible. Her head buzzed loudly and she fell to the ground in a dead faint.

It was gun shots that awakened her. Actual gunshots, she recognised the sound because there had been an Army Training Facility out by one of the Vet Clinics that she had done her placement in the year before. Elsie could feel her heart hammering against her chest, her heartbreak momentarily forgotten as she pushed herself up to her feet, staring at the man, dressed as an English Redcoat, who was pointing what looked like a very old gun at her.

It was on pure instinct that she ran, scrabbling to her feet and pushing off in the opposite direction. She didn't know what was going on, sure it was Halloween, perhaps this was a thing in Inverness, maybe they all liked to dress up like Redcoats and chase each other around the woods. But it was very clear that Elsie was not a part of whatever type of… re-enactment that they were participating in, so why would the man have pointed his gun at her?

Elsie ran without care, she lost her flimsy shoes somewhere in the forest, too frightened to stop and slip them back on. She knew that there would likely be twigs in her hair and scratches on her arms from the way she had been pushing herself through, desperate to find someone, anyone, who could tell her what was happening. She kept running right up until she all but ran into someone. She paused a few feet shy of him, hesitant. This man must had also been a part of the re-enactment because he was wearing the same Redcoat outfit that the others had been wearing. He didn't point his gun at her. He did, however, pin her with what she thought was possibly the eeriest look she had ever been pinned with. Interest, lust and something else she couldn't quite place.

"What have we here?" He asked, though it was clear that he didn't really want an answer, he was just speaking to hear himself talk, and to keep her where she was. She felt wary, like she was stepping into something that she had no place stepping into.

"I'm Elsie Duncan." She stumbled slightly over her words. "I was at a wedding in Inverness, but went for a walk and appear to be a little lost." She looked at him, he had to be at least mid-thirties, what on earth was he doing playing dress up like this? "And who are you?" She asked him.

The look on his face was comical, as though he had already expected her to know who he was. "I'm Jonathan Randell Esquire, Captain of his majesties Eighth Dragoons, at your service."

She stared at him for a moment then let out a giggle, this was so absurd. "You can't be serious?" She asked him. "Who are you really?" Elsie knew a little about Jonathan Randell, he had been quite the figure around these parts back in the 1740s. Graeme had been looking into him as part of his thesis, the guy was into some dark stuff, had been backed by a rich old dude called the Duke of Sandringham and had, quite literally, gotten away with murder.

The man did not flinch at her giggling. "I assure you, my lady, I am who I say I am." He looked her up and down once more. It made Elsie look down at her dress, it was fairly modest, it didn't show off her cleavage and it was full length right down to her ankles, the man was looking at her as though she were dressed in lingerie. The look made her uneasy, it was that sense of unease that caused her to bolt. She barely made it three steps and he was atop her. Elsie screamed at the top of her lungs and lashed out at him. "Get the hell off of me!" She tried to kick him where it would hurt him most but the man was clearly apt at dodging such attacks.

He smirked down at her, pinning her to the forest floor. "You speak like a lady of England, but dress like a whore." Elsie squirmed beneath him, hating the feeling of his nose right up against her neck, sniffing her.

"Get off of me!" She screeched again, managing to head-butt him in a way that got him off of her but hurt like hell in the process, she pushed herself roughly off the ground and started to run again, but he was faster than she and pulled his sword, his very real looking sword, and buried it in the tree a little too close to her neck for comfort.

"Who are you?" He demanded again.

"I already told you, my name is Elsie Duncan." She spat at him. Afraid to move, in case she managed to wriggle against the blade and kill herself she was very still. "I'll have you know there are people waiting for me and if I don't make it back to my wedding party they'll come looking." She lied.

It was almost like he knew it was a lie, because his eyes flickered with mirth and something akin to pity. She wasn't sure how it happened, or why he was doing this, but the man seemed determined that she was a prostitute. He was pulling at her skirt now, trying to expose her, trying to _rape_ her. It was such a foreign concept to her. She had always been told that it was the people close to you that you needed to worry about, that there weren't really any men in the woods waiting to get you. Elsie couldn't even speak. Everything was happening too fast, and like nothing she had ever experienced before.

Then, as quickly as they had been on her, the hands let go of her skirts and his body was pulled away from her. Before she had a second to breathe Elsie found herself hauled into the arms of a man in a kilt. The man who had saved her. For a moment she wondered if he was indeed part of Ali's wedding party, given his full highland outfit. She opened her mouth to thank him, offer her appreciation and perhaps find out a little about what the hell was going on. Before so much as a word came out of her mouth the man raised the butt of his sword and brought it down with a clatter to the back of her head and Elsie's world, for the second time that day, went dark.

* * *

A/N: So hi. This is a thing that appears to be happening. I adore Outlander, but sadly I do not own it, or Jamie. I am, however, responsible for the brainchild that is Elsie. There are not a lot of Outlander Fics, and I love a Jamie/OC, so I thought I may as well try. Do please review if you enjoy and would like me to continue! I would love to hear what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

When she awoke the first thing that she was really aware of was the dull throbbing in the back of her head. Then it was the smell, the stench of wood smoke combine with sweat gone stale and the unmistakable tang of blood hung heavy in the air. She felt her heart rate quicken and panic consume her. She couldn't get a breath and there were shooting pains in her chest, as though an elephant were using it as a trampoline. Elsie started mentally berating herself: now was certainly not the time for a panic attack. Now was the opposite of a good time for a panic attack, not that there was ever really a good time for it. She opened her eyes and looked around the room that she had been brought in to.

The man who had saved her was certainly not a part of the wedding party: that was obvious now. There were around half a dozen others dressed the same as him before her. The outfits were traditional, sure, but they were also grubby with ware, like they had been worn for days on end and by the smell of it they hadn't been washed in months. She looked around at them, sitting up from the corner that they had tossed her into. They were muttering between themselves, but Elsie knew that they had noticed her movements.

"i dùsgadh," _She's awake,_ it was the one who saved me that spoke first. Another man walked across from the other side of the room. He wasn't particularly tall, but he still managed to elude power. Perhaps it was his facial hair, Elsie mused, it made up for the fact that he had almost no hair atop his head. This man, none too gently, pulled Elsie up to her feet, she could feel herself trembling, no matter how much she willed it to stop her body was betraying her.

"Let's have a look at you then, lass." The man, whom she later found out was one Dougal MacKenzie, had a grip on her by the arm and pulled her across to an open fire in the middle of the room. She could see herself somewhat now, her hair had fallen half out of its halo braid, and pieces of dark brown hair were hanging limply around her face. She could see the mud and grass stains on her, previously beautiful, lilac gown. She had no shoes, her pashmina, which she somehow managed to keep through all this chaos, was laying abandoned in the corner she had been tossed in. She was certain that here face looks frightful, a mess of mascara and eyeliner smeared everywhere and puffy from crying to boot.

She tried to appear unafraid. "Can you see me now?" It could have been somewhat snarky, if her voice had not broken five times in as many words. The Scotsman didn't appear perturbed by her attitude.

"What's your name, lass?" He asked.

"Elsie Duncan," She replied, not even thinking to lie about her name. What did it matter? If they wished to hold her for ransom there was no one to pay it. She was completely alone in the world, and that realisation, that likely no one was even looking for her – or would be at least until Graeme returned back from the wedding and discovered that she hadn't ever made it back to Aberdeen – she was helpless. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought, but she blinked them back. Sadly not fast enough for her tears to go unnoticed, if the flash of sympathy in Dougal's eyes was anything to go by.

"Elsie Duncan," He repeated, and before she was able to question who he was the man was talking across her, to the man who had brought her here. "You say that you found her?" He questioned the man.

"That's right," He looked between the two of them. "She was having words with a certain of dragoons with whom we are acquainted." He was almost amused when he continued. "There seemed to be some question as to whether or not the lady was a whore."

Elsie's eyes flashed with anger at that. She did not in anyone's eyes, look like a whore, surely. She was dressed nicely, modestly. Or at least she had been before she was dragged backwards through the woods.

"And what was the ladies position?"

Elsie glowered at him. "I am _not_ a whore."

There was sheer panic in her eyes, however, when a voice came out from the small crowd of nameless faces and suggested that they could put it to the test. She could feel her heart racing and somehow she was not particularly comforted by Dougal's claim that he did not hold with rape.

Still, the man who had saved her only to capture her butted in. "Dougal," And so she found out the bald man's name. "I have no idea what she might be, or who, but I'd stake my best shirt she's no a whore."

Dougal's eyes were then back on her and Elsie felt very vulnerable under his, almost predatory stare. "We'll puzzle it out later."

Whatever that meant Elsie had no clue. She didn't know if he did actually think she was a whore, or if he was just trying to move on from the subject, either way, it didn't make her feel comfortable. Elsie kept her eyes downcast, she was all too aware that she was still within a room with at least one man who had just suggested forcing her into having sex with him, as though it were a funny joke or child's play.

The man who had questioned her continued to talk as he walked away from her, "We've got a good distance to go tonight, we must do something about Jamie first."

Elsie didn't know where they were going or who Jamie was. She didn't know what the hell was going on, but she was starting to put together that she wasn't on the outskirts of Inverness anymore. Or at least, if she was, it wasn't the Inverness she knew. Something had happened, something strange and something impossible. She didn't quite want to admit it, not even within her own head, but still she could not deny the truth.

She didn't know what she ought to do. She didn't feel safe here with these men, not by a longshot. But she had been alone out there for all of about five seconds and someone had already manhandled her and attempted to rape her. These men were by no means safe, but they might actually be her best option. She didn't have anywhere to go, if this really was something… Other – and she had no other way to think of it within her own head – then she didn't even have Graeme and his family to go back to. She was completely alone, even more so than she had already thought.

The men were talking amongst themselves as Elsie tried to work out what she ought to be doing. Her story was true, she had been in Inverness at a wedding. She had been spurned by her lover and now she was alone, but she didn't know exactly… _when_ she was. By the talk of whores every three seconds she assumed that it would be strange for them to believe that she had been with a man for three years and had not been married to him. Perhaps they would think her little better than a whore. This was unbelievable levels of fucked up, Elsie shook her head at herself. She was not a whore. In spite of everything and the utter insanity of her situation, she would not entertain the idea of being compared to a whore.

The man in charge was talking to a boy by the fire. He couldn't have been too much older than Elsie, if he was at all, and from what Elsie could see his arm had been dislocated. Elsie had helped her grandmother pop more than a few dislocated shoulders back into place as a younger girl. Of course she was a few years out of practice. However when the men went to attempt to force it back in at an angle that she knew would do more harm than good Elsie couldn't help but interject.

"You have to stop!" She all but shouted at the three men that were holding the boy – Jamie – still. She moved over and laid a hand on the man who was about to shove the shoulder to stop him, but quickly removed it as she saw the knives that had been drawn around the room. She quickly explained, "If you try to put the joint back into place like that you'll do more harm than good. It needs to be at the right angle or you'll break the arm." Elsie said the words quickly and stumbled over them more than once. She wished that she sounded more confident, but honestly they were all a lot bigger than her, they didn't know who she was. Why would they listen to her?

Still, her earnest face, and the fact that she didn't move when the knives were drawn other than to explain seemed to do her some good. She took a step towards the man – Jamie – and took a look at his shoulder. It was dislocated, but it wasn't broken. If she got the angle right and got it back in then he should be ok other than some swelling and a sore joint. She wasn't looking at the boy, just the arm, still, when she heard his sharp intake of breath as she lightly touched his arm to evaluate Elsie looked up at him apologetically.

He was possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen in person. It was actually quite startling. Graeme had been handsome, he was actually quite a beautiful boy with his blonde hair and blue eyes. But Jamie… he was all man. Steely blue eyes, red curls, high cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. Elsie had to mentally tell herself off for thinking such things at a time when she ought to be being a little more professional.

"I'm sorry," She said softly, "But I'm afraid this is about to get worse before it gets better." She gave him the faintest hint of a smile. "Could you hold him steady, please?" Elsie looked up to the men who had been holding him still previously. They didn't move at her request. "Now please." She said, a little more impatiently. At a nod from Dougal they took heed of her and hold of Jamie's shoulders.

Elsie took the boys arm and angled it, feeling guilty about the noises of pain that were coming from him, but not guilty enough that her grip was anything other than iron. "This is the worst bit," She told him, lining it up. She pushed the arm sharply, relief flooding through her when it actually did what she wanted it to and the joint went back into place. Had it not then things could have gotten a hell of a lot worse for her very quickly.

Jamie sighed in relief and muttered something in Gaelic before clarifying "It doesnae hurt anymore."

Elsie gave him a little more of a smile and patted him on his newly fixed shoulder. "It will. It's going to be stiff for few weeks." She explained. "You'll need to rest it." She turned and looked at the men. "I need someone's belt, please." She posed it as a demand and not a question, then she looked to one of the men who had laughed at the possibility of raping her. "Your belt, please."

"'Your belt, please' she says," He mocked. "Do you hear that lass?" He did however, relent and give her his belt when Dougal demanded it.

Elsie started to belt the arm to Jamie's side, talking quietly to him as she did so.

"So you've done this before?" He asked.

Elsie nodded. "My grandmother was a healer. She taught me more than a little before she passed." She finished the make-do sling. "Ok, that's you. How does it feel?"

"Much better." His smile toward her was charming. "Thank you."

"You'll need to be careful with it," Elsie explained. "Don't exert yourself, ease back into use of it slowly."

Then before Elsie had a chance to suggest that he use warm compresses and have a good night's sleep, Dougal was throwing Jamie's jacket at him, because they were leaving.

She didn't know how it happened, but she was expected to go with them. Had she had anywhere else to go then there would have been a possibility that Elsie would have argued. But as it was she was cold, alone, and frightened more of what was out there for her alone than she was for her travelling with this group of men, even with the rough treatment she received from Dougal as he warned her to stay close, threatening to slit her throat for her should she not.

That was how she found herself trudging along in the rain. She had her pashmina pulled closely around her, and she was more than grateful for the body heat of Jamie behind her, but everything was oh so very wrong. She kept expecting to wake up.

People did not travel through time. Elsie knew all about Gaelic tales of the fair folk, she had lived with her grandmother for long enough to know the superstitious stories, but that didn't mean that it was possible for them to be true!

Perhaps she had hit her head and this was some dream she was having as her mind healed. Perhaps this really was a psychotic break as a result of becoming alone in the world. Whatever it was, Elsie wished nothing more than to be back in her flat in Aberdeen with a cup of tea, cosy jammies and a blanket. She wished to feel safe.

Jamie had wrapped his tartan around her some time back, claiming that she was shaking. The thing was, Elsie couldn't really feel the cold. She was quite certain that she was just showing symptoms of being in shock. Still, it was nice to have Jamie's warmth there. It was nice to hear him prattle on about this and that, despite the fact that she was silent, other than the odd nod here or there. He seemed kind, a good man. Elsie didn't know how many men in his party she would be able to say the same for.

After a while Jamie quieted and Elsie got lost in her own mind. It was dark, so it wasn't as though she could see where they were going, she didn't much care either. Night turned into day and Elsie began to feel the pain of riding. She had never been on a horse for longer than an hour or so at a time, even then it was in lessons and she had been young. Her thighs were chaffed to hell, and stiff to boot; she wasn't sure that she was going to be able to stand at all when the time came to get off the bloody pony.

As it happened, she didn't actually have the option of getting herself off the pony. She was brought out of her day dreaming by the men speaking in Gaelic so low and so rapid that she didn't pick up much at all, other than that something was wrong.

They were riding in to an ambush.

Elsie was tossed off of the horse and into a ditch with a harsh whisper to hide herself. She could feel the pain.

The sharp pain of the fall rather than the dull pain of the ride, why would she be able to feel such acute pain if this were a dream?

She had to force herself to get to her feet, to run, to hide. She could hear the sound of the men fighting, the bang of gunshots and the clash of swords, in the distance so she just kept going in the opposite direction. Half running, half walking, mostly stumbling, she really wished that she had managed to keep a hold of her shoes during her last run in the forest.

She felt cold without the heat of the Scotsman to keep her warm, and honestly she didn't have a bloody clue where she was stumbling, or how the hell she was going to find her way back to the group of men. And that was if they hadn't already been killed by whatever had been attacking them. She had been walking up and down, around in circles for goodness knew how long and she really had no idea where she was, where she thought she was going, or why she hadn't just made a den for herself in the ditch that she had been thrown in to, but the sound of horse hoofs on soil made her heart leap hard against her ribcage.

The relief that it was tartan and not a redcoat that she faced was startling.

"Have you lost your way?" Jamie demanded of her, he was almost angry, something that took Elsie off guard. She stood still, watching as he swung down off the horse. His arm was free of the belt, and his shirt was stained heavily with blood. Elsie's eyes were like saucers as she took in his full profile. He looked dangerous.

"I hope you haven't been misusing your shoulder." The words tumbled out of her mouth without thought. Something to fill the thick silence. "You're hurt." She stated, looking at the red that coated him. She wasn't sure that she believed him when he retorted that not much of it was his blood. Surely he hadn't been so close to a man that he killed that he had all but bathed in his blood?

Elsie shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the sword that Jamie was holding, half pointing at her. "Dougal and the others will be waiting further up the stream."

He was expecting her to run. That realisation was somewhat comical to Elsie, though of course Jamie didn't know that she had nowhere to go, no one to run to. She hadn't managed to get the words of explanation out before he spoke again.

"We should go." His eyes were fierce enough that Elsie made no move towards him. She actually took a step backwards when he started striding towards her, this clearly just furthered his idea that she was trying to run. "If you won't walk," he told her, his arm now wrapped around her waist to keep her from running. "I shall pick you up and throw you over my shoulder."

Elsie's breath hitched in her throat. This was the closest that she had been to a man that wasn't Graeme in… well probably ever. His closeness combined with his words – which honestly, were more arousing than they were frightening, was he attempting to flirt with her or did he genuinely think that she could take him seriously? – took the words from her throat. "Do you want me to do that?" Jamie's face was so serious that Elsie couldn't help the giggle that escaped from her lips. He looked completely baffled.

"I'm sorry," She said, still laughing, her hand covering her mouth. "Honestly, I am, I don't mean to laugh at you. But I assure you, I have no intention of running. You can toss me over your shoulder if you really want," She teased him. "But given that I just popped it back into joint yesterday, I wouldn't recommend the strain."

It was the most that she had said to him in one go since they had left the cottage she had been taken hostage to.

Jamie frowned. "If yer no trying to get away from us," He asked, his face the picture of confusion, "then why were you so far from where we left ye?"

Elsie shrugged her shoulders. "You said to hide. I went and hid. Then I realised that I didn't know where anything at all was."

Jamie half smiled. "So ye actually did lose yer way."

It didn't seem all that believable. Elsie likely wouldn't have believed herself if she were in Jamie's shoes, but it surely must still be plausible to him, especially given that she knew it was the truth. She nodded her head in confirmation.

"Well in that case, it looks like you're coming with me."

He helped her up onto the horse and Elsie knew from the second that they started off again, the chaffing on her thighs and the dull ache between her legs was not going to be any easier from her brief break off of the horse. It might actually be more painful.

They joined back up with the rest of the group and Elsie was somewhat surprised by the high spirits that they were in. They shared around flasks of whisky and spoke of their 'wee bit of fun', as though mortal combat was something that should be taken lightly. They had fun and Elsie had never been so frightened in all her life. Jamie handed her the flask, telling her that she ought to drink, it would make her forget her hunger.

She felt the burn right the way from her mouth to her stomach and Elsie half choked her second gulp back up. Whatever was in that flask was fowl tasting stuff, she honestly did not think that she could stomach another sip. She handed it back to Jamie who was clearly attempting to hold back a smirk at her attempts.

Their break was short and Elsie got no relief from the horse as they started back on their journey to what she considered to be Destination Unknown. They travelled all through that day and were still going long after night had fallen. Jamie, who had previously been fairly chatting had grown quiet behind Elsie some hours previously.

She didn't realise that something was truly wrong, however, until the boys grip around her waist slipped and he went sideways off the horse and into the dirt.

"Stop!" Elsie called out, pulling on the reins to halt Jamie's horse. "Jamie's hurt. He's fallen off the horse!" She managed to dismount by herself, though she was grateful for the cover of night to hide the lack of grace the dismount held. She got down to Jamie and pulled at her shirt – the one covered in blood that 'wasnae his'.

Elsie cursed under her breath. "Damned fool." She looked to the men who were now dismounting and coming to see what was wrong. "Help me get him up!" She demanded, unable to move him alone. The propped Jamie up against a tree. "He has a gunshot wound," Elsie told the other men. "The idiot could have said something, but of course that would have made things far too simple." She was examining the wound. She didn't have much experience at all the gunshot wounds. Guns were not a thing in 2016 Scotland. The odd farmer might have one, but Elsie was damned if she'd ever seen one used on a human.

She had, however, seen a fully qualified vet work on removing a gunshot wound from a cow. It was entirely different from this, but it meant that she knew that the bullet had gone straight through. She couldn't see any fragments, and she could see an exit wound. It was a clean shot. She had to act as though she knew as much about this as she could. "It's a clean bullet wound." She told the men. "Through and through, it shouldn't be too serious, but he's lost a lot of blood." She shook her head. "I could have bound it for him, and saved a lot of bother, had the fool told be before."

Elsie took a closer look at the wound. "It'll need to be disinfected before I dress it, properly." She said it more to herself than to anyone else.

"Disinfected?" One of the men asked, though they all shared the same confused expression.

"Cleaned of dirt," She told them. "It'll stop it from getting red and inflamed. I'll need some alcohol." She held out her hand for one of their flasks. She had never done this before, perhaps she should be taking a nip of Dutch courage!

Instead she poured it on the wound. Jamie awoke instantaneously muttering phrases in Gaelic under his breath. "Welcome back." Elsie sang at him. "Looks like it was your blood after all."

Jamie shook his head, trying to stand. "I'm alright, just a wee bit dizzy."

Elsie put her hand on his chest to stop him from getting up. "You're certainly not alright, you've lost more than enough blood for one day, not sit still and let me dress your wound before you make matters worse for yourself than they already are."

The look on his face was priceless. He had thought that she was some meek little lass, given that she had been so quiet on their journey so far, that she had been willing to go with him when he had told her to. Yet there she was, giving him orders and sass, it was a shock to the system, but a nice one all the same.

"I need some clean cloth to use as a bandage." Elsie looked around at the men, all of whom were utterly baffled by the turn of events. They were about as useful a s chocolate tea cup, if Elsie was being quite honest. She looked them over, mucky and stained from their own fights. "Oh for Christ's sake," she reached down to her own dress: well it was already ruined. She ripped off a strip from the bottom, wincing at the sound of the fabric tearing.

She doused the fabric in alcohol before covering the wound, and starting to strap the thing up with more strips from her dress. The entire process took less than five minutes, but the men were all looking at her as though she were from outer space. Elsie wondered if outer space was even a concept yet here. Whenever 'here' was. She had barely even finished tying the bandage – threats to Jamie not to move if he knew what was good for him – before Dougal was complaining that they still had fifteen miles – five hours – to go.

It was the first time that Elsie considered that there might be an end to this journey. An end to the days and nights of sitting on a horse. Dougal claimed that they would stay long enough for Elsie to finish the dressing and no longer. She wondered if her work was so messy that he couldn't tell it was done, but that was beside the point.

"We shouldn't be going anywhere," She said, her voice sounded much braver than she felt. "Jamie needs rest, he could have died from that wound!"

The man acted as though he hadn't heard a word that she said, walking back to his horse and ignoring her. Elsie made to go after him but Jamie distracted her. He was talking of the officer who had attacked her a few days prior.

He was apparently a big shot around the area, patrols galore, and even Jamie thought that they ought to be moving, despite his condition. Then again, he didn't seem to have much care for his own safety to begin with. "We should still have enough time for you to rest a moment." Elsie said stubbornly.

Jamie shook his head. "I would risk you, or anyone else, getting taken prisoner by that man. If you cannae fix me up well enough to ride, you leave me here with a loaded pistol so that I might determine my own fate."

Elsie shook her head at that. "Don't be so bloody dramatic." She checked that the bandage was tight enough. "You may be unsteady on a horse for the remainder of the journey, and sore to boot, but you're not quite at the point of opting out yet, soldier. Not after the work I just put in to stop you bleeding out on the leaves below you."

She got up to her feet and offered Jamie her hand, she couldn't read the look that he was giving her. She didn't know if it was disgust, pity, perhaps a hint of admiration. He took her hand to stand.

"Thank you, Sassenach. Truly."

There was a sincerity in his tone that took Elsie off guard. She didn't have the words to reply, but she nodded, acknowledging him, a half smile still on her face.

The remainder of their journey was, thankfully, uneventful. Elsie felt as though she had had the most adventure of her life crammed in to three days and she wasn't exactly sure how to feel when Jamie pointed out the castle in the close distance, telling her that that was Castle Leoch and where they were going.

She had Jamie's tartan wrapped around her shoulders once again as they arrived at the castle. She had been there before, she knew. Only when she had seen it, it wasn't a castle, but a ruin. Graeme had brought her here the first time that she had been to stay with his family in Inverness, he was writing about it in his dissertation, about the people who had lived here. The people with whom, Elsie now realised, she was currently riding.

Clan Mackenzie. She had managed to come back hundreds of years in time – if her calculations were correct – and she was stuck with Graeme's bloody ancestors.

* * *

AN: Hi there, an update for you. It turns out that writing up episodes takes rather a lot of time and words, and I still feel like there are elements of this chapter that are more rushed than I would like. But I would love to know what you think! We're getting to know Elsie a little more, now. A little sassy, a little bossy and - at the moment - a little timid.

Thank you to Staupe, Guest and Top Story for your reviews, and to those of you who have favourited/followed the story! Feedback makes this all the more fun, so please leave a review and let me know your thoughts! Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Honestly, Elsie wasn't sure whether to be grateful that she would no longer be expected to ride a horse for all hours of the day and night or to be terrified that they had arrived at what was apparently their destination. There were brash calls between men and a portly woman – clearly adored by every man with whom she had travelled – came out to greet them. Elsie had to hold back a smile watching the easy back and forth banter. It was almost enough to allow her to forget the fact that she was in a strange place and a strange time, where they knew nothing of her and possibly wanted her dead. Almost, but not quite. She watched as they spoke and the men were sent off to the kitchens for some breakfast, it was then that the older woman's eyes set on Elsie. Her eyes weren't unkind, but they didn't hold the sparkle that they had moments before.

It was clear that she didn't think much of Elsie and her ripped and muddy gown. Her eyes trailed Elsie up and down like the popular girls did when a new girl was in their midst. It made Elsie more than a little uncomfortable, but she didn't feel like she could say anything at all. She must have looked a sight to this woman. Her gown was torn, her hair had long since given up on looking presentable. Even in her own time women would give Elsie a similar look. But she wasn't in her own time, and that meant that not only did she look a fright by her own standards, but she was also dressed in something which was more akin to a nightgown to these people than an actual respectable dress.

Still, the woman was not cruel to her, she did not say much more than she needed to. After sizing her up she wanted to whisk Elsie away to find her something to wear that was 'a bit more, well more'.

Elsie couldn't help but stop the woman as she was trying to drag her away. "But what about him?" Elsie enquired, she looked back at Jamie who was pulling his pack off of the horse, looking at her as though it were silly for her to even be considering him and his injuries.

"I can fend for myself," He told her, his eyes still sparkling with that hint of wonder that she was even bothering to think of him. As though he already thought of himself as an afterthought.

"No he can't, he's hurt." Elsie turned to Mrs FitzGibbons, "He was shot yesterday, and then the great lummox managed to throw himself sideways off a horse."

She could practically feel Jamie's eye roll. "I'll be fine," The boy claimed as he started to walk away.

"No you will not!" Elsie called after him, her cheeks were starting to take on a little colour with annoyance at the stubbornness of this man. She turned back to Mrs FitzGibbons. "I bandaged up the shoulder for him as best I could, but I couldn't clean it properly or get a proper bandage on, because they weren't willing to stop on the way home. If I don't take a look at the wounds now, then they could get infected,"

Mrs FitzGibbons stared at her blankly at the word. "Lest it get red and inflamed and bring a fever on." She tried again.

The older woman was looking at her as though she were a little unhinged, and the look made Elsie feel uncomfortable in the extreme, but at least the woman was nodding now. "Oh aye," She told Elsie, "I ken fine fit you mean. But do you mean to say that you know what to do for that?" She asked suspiciously.

Elsie nodded, not knowing what else she ought to say.

"You're charmed then?" Mrs FitzGibbons accused. "A Beaton?"

Elsie nodded, vaguely recognising the term. "Something like that."

She felt relief spread through her when she appeared to get the older woman on board. She kept her eyes directly on Elsie, but her words were to the redheaded lad.

"Jamie, you heard the lady, you need tending." Her hand reached out and took Elsie's arm to lead her. "This way."

Elsie followed the older woman, not even looking to see if Jamie would. She got the impression that this lady had too much power and clout with the boys to have one of them not follow her orders, no matter how trivial they may think that they were. Elsie knew that it wasn't trivial, she knew that Jamie was risking losing his arm – or even his life – if he were so stupid as to ignore her advice. But boys were boys and sometimes they needed a slap upside the head and a boot up the arse to listen properly.

Elsie had followed the woman a fairly long way twisting down corridors until they reached a small room with an open fire. Elsie had requested a few things from Mrs FitzGibbons and she had come up wonderfully, boiling away in a pot over the fire was garlic and witch-hazel. Both of which were ingredients her grandmother had used as sterilising agents in her own time. Mrs FitzGibbons had also brought a few other ingredients for Jamie's pain. Honestly, Elsie hadn't thought much about that, she was so used to a time where you could pop a paracetamol or ibuprofen and that was that. She had never had much thoughts on herbs for pain relief, something which she was sure to regret the next time she got her period.

Elsie thanked Mrs Fitz for her help, trying not to notice the tender moment between the older woman and the young scotsman behind her. It was clear that they were close, or close enough. This woman appeared to be like a mother to all of these boys. She left telling them to call to her if they were to need anything else, telling her that she may call her by her shortened name, Mrs Fitz. It filled Elsie with a warm feeling of welcome. Such a small offering made her feel so much safer.

Then there were two. Elsie was all alone with Jamie. It made her nervous and she couldn't put her finger on why. It seemed so silly to be nervous about being in the presence of a boy. She was in a completely foreign time and she didn't know anyone and she was worried about a boy? She had never been nervous about boys really, probably because she had never been much interested in them, or flirting with them. She had always been so set with Graeme, why would she look anywhere else?

Elsie pushed the rags that she had been given into the water with the ladle before pulling one of the boiled rags free. She went to stand behind Jamie, pushing aside his tartan to reveal both the new wound and his back.

It took everything that Elsie had not to gasp when she saw it. Scars upon scars upon scars, criss-crossed in every way across all of his flesh. This wasn't just a beating – a whipping – someone wanted this poor boy dead. Elsie couldn't help it when she put a hand upon Jamie's shoulder, unsure if the comfort was for him or herself.

Jamie was clearly uncomfortable with her seeing the scars, he felt the need to explain. "Redcoats. They flogged me twice in the space of a week."

Elsie felt the tears spring to her eyes, she had always been a bit of a soft touch for other people's pain. She hated to think of it, this poor boy, flogged once Elsie couldn't even imagine. Hell she came from a time when it was frowned upon to smack your child on the bottom, never mind take a whip to someone's flesh twice in one week.

Elsie rubbed her hand on his back softly as he continued. "They'd have flogged me twice in the same day, I expect, were the no' afraid of killing me. There's no joy in flogging a dead man."

He was so nonchalant about it. As though it weren't something awful and brutal and cruel. Elsie wiped away the tears that had escaped her eyes, trying to avoid getting any of them on Jamie's back. Sadly in the process she realised that she would have gotten her own germs on the rags. She tried to keep the tears out of her voice.

"I can't imagine that anyone could get joy out of doing such an awful thing."

Jamie seemed to disagree. "Well if it wasn't joy, Randel was at least very pleased with himself."

Elsie walked back around to put the rag back into the pot, trying to keep her emotions best under control. She could feel Jamie's eyes on her. They were nice eyes too, very pretty, strong. Elsie didn't know that eyes could be strong, but somehow his were. She glanced up at him.

"Why were you flogged?" She asked, not sure why the words came out of her mouth. It was a personal question, she shouldn't have asked him, but she had and now it was out there and there wasn't much she could do about it.

Jamie looked thoughtful. "Well, the first time it was for escaping from Fort William." He nodded. "And the second was theft, at least that's what the charge sheet read." He raised his eyebrows in such a way that made it clear to Elsie that he hadn't done anything wrong. That it had been some awful miscarriage of justice that left him with scars all over his back. Scars that surely still gave him pain at nights. From an experience that must still give him night terrors.

Elsie took the rag from the pot where it had boiled and went around to the back of Jamie to tend to his wounds. "Why were you escaping from Fort William in the first place?" She asked him, curiosity getting the better of her.

Jamie looked up at her. "Well, they were holding me prisoner."

She couldn't help it, the cheeky reply had giggles spilling out of her mouth. It wasn't even that funny, just a statement of the obvious and evading yet another personal question that she had thrust upon him, but she was amused, nonetheless. "I gathered that. Was there a real charge?" The question spilled out before she could stop it.

He was frowning to remember, "A long word, I think it was obstruction."

It was Elsie's turn to frown. "Well that doesn't sound very serious at all, what was it?"

Jamie looked up at her, she was almost finished dressing his wound, using their conversation as a distraction for him, from the pain. "Well, I suppose it's whatever the English say it is."

She felt her heart hurt a little. She knew that this was an awful time for the English and the Scottish, it was from this that the hostility of the United Kingdom came from originally. Still, it hurt that he was considering her a 'them' an English woman, rather than one of his own. She supposed he couldn't help it. Her accent was all over the place, she had lived in London for so many years, then Skye, then Aberdeen. Her accent never really settled, some words had a Scots twang, sure, but most still had her London lilt. Would they even believe her if she told them that she had a Scottish father, and lived in Scotland for the vast majority of her life?

Well she doubted it. Still, Jamie pulled her out of her own thoughts by telling her more about his own experience.

How could they had done this to him almost four years ago? He could only have been a boy, a teenager. Jamie told her that the English had been taking food, shelter, cattle and all sorts of other things from Scottish lands for their own cause, and how it had been a day in October that Captain Randel had showed up at his own little farm.

His father was away at a funeral, leaving Jamie as the man of the house. He had been hard at work when the sound of the fall out had reached him. His sister screaming at the top of her lungs as two redcoats manhandled her. He had told her to run while he fought with the redcoats. He had been winning too, until Jenny – his sister – returned in the hold of Captain Randall, who had a gun to her throat.

It was enough to make him surrender in an instant, so long as he let Jenny alone. Of course that wasn't what happened. Elsie couldn't imagine the horror that Jamie must have faced, in the arms of two Red Coats while Captain Randall manhandled his sister in front of him. He had ripped open the front of her dress, exposing her for the world to see. He had made Jamie look at it.

"He wanted to send a message." Jamie explained. "This is what happens, when you fight back against the English."

He had made Jenny watch as they flogged him. Captain Randall taunted her, asking her if she could offer her better entertainment. Of course Jamie wouldn't let her, telling her that he would rather die first.

"So she went with him." Was how Jamie concluded the story. It was clear to Elsie that the felt he had let his sister – his family – down. "She thought he'd kill me, and perhaps she was right. After that I din ken what happened. But when I woke up I was tied up in a wagon with the chickens jolting down the road to Fort William."

Elsie could see a few of her own tear marks on Jamie's bandages. She felt guilty, this wasn't hers to cry about, but here she was, an emotional mess at story time. As though she could really feel any of the pain of which he was speaking.

"I'm so sorry," The words felt hollow, but she didn't know what else she could possibly say. "I can't even imagine… it must have been terrible for you." She rested her hand on his shoulder, now fully bandaged.

"Aye," He agreed. "Chickens are very poor company."

The laughter that came out of her mouth was choked by a half sob, also, but she appreciated his ability to lighten the mood.

Jamie started fidgeting, clearly in some pain, but the way he was moving his shoulder would do him no good. "Don't do that, I'll just strap that arm to your side, please hold still."

And that was how Elsie found herself face to face with Jamie's naked chest, while strapping him up with bandages. She had never been that close to muscles so defined before. Graeme had always been a little more… soft. Soft was not a word you could use to describe Jamie in the least.

"You're a kind woman, with a good touch," Jamie claimed, while Elsie attempted to secure the bandages. "Your husband is a lucky man."

At that Elsie felt the tears spring to her eyes. No, not now. Not the time to think about Graeme or the break up. Not now.

"I'm not married, actually." Elsie told him, trying to keep her emotions out of her voice and the tears out of her eyes. "There was a man… I thought we would." She trailed off listlessly. "Well, let's just say it didn't work out as I planned."

Jamie frowned, looking at her face, as though he could feel her emotions radiating off of her. "I'm sorry to hear that. Though I can't imagine why any man would pass up a lass so bonny as you."

The words were kind and sincere and brought a genuine maidens blush to Elsie's cheeks. She stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, wiping away the few tears that still managed to escape her. "You're too kind." She half smiled at him, taking a few steps away from him. "But I think that I should be getting back to Mrs FitzGibbons. It wouldn't do for 'a lass so bonny as me' to be seen walking around in what looks like her nightgown, now would it?" She tried to joke.

Jamie stood and looked at her with sincerity in his eyes. "You need not be scared of me. Or anyone else here, so long as I'm with you."

It gave her a warm feeling in her stomach, a feeling of safety that had evaded her since she woke up in this strange place, but still, she couldn't help but see the gap in the logic. "But when you're not with me?" She asked him, she pushed a portion of her hair back behind her ears, looking up at him rather than hiding behind it.

"Just don't forget that you're English in a place where that's not a pretty thing to be." He told her. She wanted to speak back against his words, but she couldn't prove anything she was saying. If they contacted Skye to see if anyone knew of an Elsie Duncan she knew that there would be none, because the Duncan's would not move to Skye until the 1860s. For now she had to just be 'English' though it was not something that she really considered to be a part of her identity. Not since she was a small girl. So she nodded.

"Thank you." She wiped away the last of her tears, it was like a faucet. Once she turned them on, she couldn't turn them off so quickly. Jamie took her hand and squeezed it, his own hand was warm and callused and she couldn't help but take comfort in the action.

"You should sleep a bit, you're worn out." He gathered up his shirt and his tartan off of the table and made to leave. "Likely someone will want to speak with you before too long."

The idea of it sent ice down Elsie's spine. "I suppose you're right."

With that Jamie left the room. Elsie allowed herself a moment to think over her situation, over everything that had happened over the last few days, and she crawled into the bed provided for her and allowed herself to cry herself to sleep.

* * *

A/N- So hello, it has been a little while, and for that I apologise. My life was somewhat turned upside down of late, boyfriend got a new job, as a result I ended up having to quit my job and move across country with him! (Let me tell you, Dundee is not nearly so pretty as Edinburgh. And I'm allowed to say so, it's my home city that I've been forced to return to). So finding work and settling in has been tough. But here is a chapter, albeit a slightly shorter one. I am working on the rest of episode two right now, so hopefully another installment won't take so long! Please do leave a review for me and let me know what you think. Reviews are encouragement that keep people writing! Thank you for reading and being here!


	4. Chapter 4

The bed was a four poster; warm and comfortable with curtains hanging around it. A part of Elsie felt like she was in a Hogwarts Dorm, but the rest of her was too exhausted to care at all where she was sleeping. She was physically and emotionally drained and the last thing that she wanted was Mrs Fitz pulling open the curtains and all but shouting at her that it was time to get up. Apparently she had managed to sleep the whole day away and it was almost five o clock. Elsie wished that she could go back to sleep right now and just wake up the next morning, but the woman rushing around her room pulling open curtains and having the sunlight shine through. She had at least brought food, a hot broth was sitting by the fire.

Elsie pushed herself up into a sitting position. She felt awful, her hair was knotted and sore from the hair pins and sleeping on it. Her clothes were disgusting and she generally felt like she needed to spend about three hours in a bubble bath to make this any better.

Still she dragged herself out of the bed, pulling one of the comfier blankets with her. She accepted the broth from Mrs Fitz, muttering thanks under her breath, she sat down at the chair beside the fire. Mrs Fitz was busying herself with what looked like something from Elsie to wash herself with. If it was she would be truly grateful, because she really did feel disgusting.

Elsie had barely eaten a few mouthfuls of broth when Mrs Fitz took the bowl off of her and set it to the side. She pushed her dark dangled hair back behind her ears and just stared at Mrs Fitz. The older woman clapped her hands at her, pulling her to her feet, telling her to come along.

Apparently privacy was not a thing that had been invented yet in this time. Mrs Fitz pulled her dress off of her, leaving her standing there in her lilac lacy bra and panties. Now these certainly were luxuries that not even a whore could have in this time. Elsie was pretty sure that the bra hadn't been invented yet. Mrs Fitz confirmed by asking; "What kind of corset is that?" Her tone incredulous.

"It's a brassiere." Elsie shrugged her shoulders.

And that was all that was said before she took off the last of her clothing – along with her dignity – and stood naked before the older woman, certain that she would never see a well-fitting bra again unless she managed to get back to her own time.

Mrs Fitz helped to dress Elsie in layers after layers of clothing. It was strange, and Elsie started to understand why people had ladies in waiting who would help them get dressed. This must be hard and exhausting to do all on your own. Especially when this was just a plain gown. What would the fancier ones be like?

By the time they were finished Elsie felt ridiculously weighed down and heavy. She looked like a character from a period drama, and she couldn't understand for the life of her why these women put on these uncomfortably tight corsets only to lose the illusion of their waists with those big sausage fabric hips that Elsie was sporting under her dress.

Mrs Fitz had managed to contain all of her long dark hair up into a bun – and without a piece of elastic in sight! – Elsie couldn't help but be amazed with the things that these women could do.

"There, now you're ready to be taken to Himself." Mrs Fitz was looking her over, proud of her work. No doubt she thought that she had just managed to single handedly turn Elsie into a Woman.

It made Elsie's stomach drop, she didn't know what she could possibly say to the laird, she didn't know anything at all, but she knew that she couldn't exactly tell him the truth. Not without being sent off to the nearest 'lunatic asylum' and she knew fine well that those were bloody awful within this time period.

A man appeared at the door, the same one who had saved her from Captain Randall and made a motion with his head for her to follow him. She didn't have any time at all to think up a story. She would be best just sticking as close to the truth as she possibly could.

The laird's office was a strange room, a warm fire place, murals on the walls, there were books on shelves and birds chirping everywhere. Honestly it wasn't what Elsie had expected. Nor had she expected to be left in the room on her own while she awaited 'Himself'. She managed to catch sight of a date while she was in there 1743. She was in 1743. She had never really studied too much about this time period at school. She knew that the United Kingdom was already a thing, it had happened, that was why there was so much unrest in Scotland right now. The Clans were still going strong, they would for a few more years. Before the Highland Clearances brought everything crashing down around their ears. France and England were at war, again. The American Revolution still hadn't happened yet and Elsie had no bloody clue who was on the throne right now. She didn't know anything much at all. She didn't know anything practical. She was screwed.

Meeting the laird was one of the strangest meeting she had ever encountered. She had been looking at his books when he had arrived, he had more than she would have thought for the time, even if he was an important man. They had a brief conversation about the books in which she tried not to say much at all, before he welcomed her, calling her Mistress and introducing himself.

Elsie spent most of her time trying not to look at Colum Mackenzie's legs. She was grateful when they both sat down so she no longer had them in her eye line, she couldn't seek them out. Colum was talking to her, asking about how his brother and his man managed to find her in 'apparent distress'.

Elsie's guard went straight up. She look the man in the eyes. "Apparent?" She questioned him. "I was attacked and almost raped by a soldier of the King, I think that my distress can be assumed to be true." Elsie searched her mind, but she could not bring forward the name of the King on the throne, at least she knew that it was not a Queen at this point in time.

"And other than this 'near rape'," Elsie could heat the doubt in the Laird's voice, but she kept her lips tightly shut. "You suffered no further molestation?"

The way he said it. Elsie felt so angry, so violated, so much like a twenty first century woman who had immersed herself in feminism. "No." She all but snapped. "Please extend my gratitude to your brother for his kind escort."

Apparently sarcasm was lost on people of this era, as Colum just nodded his head, as though her thanks had been sincere.

Elsie continued to talk, thinking out her plan as she went. "I will, however, need transport back to Inverness as soon as possible." She felt her heart hammering in her chest. She needed to go back to the place where she first found herself. Perhaps there would be some clue there as to how she would get back home. Not that there was much of a home to go back to… but she could at least try to salvage her life in 2016 when she got back. There was nothing here that she could even attempt to salvage.

"I'm sure something could be arranged." Colum agreed. Elsie felt her entire body sag in relief. Until he continued speaking. "But I do myself, wish to know how exactly a 'lady' such as yourself came to be wandering about in the woods dressed in nothing but her shift."

So much for her plan of just getting out of there. How could she explain that it wasn't a shift? It was in fact a very nice and expensive ball gown from a time where ball gowns weren't so big! It was full length, it covered her shoulders and her cleavage, sure it didn't have eighteen layers and petticoats, but it was a very respectable dress!

"I was at a wedding in Inverness." Elsie told Colum, deciding that she should stick to the truth as much as she could. Lies are what trip you up, plus Elsie had always been rubbish at lying, she would just blush all over her face if she tried. "I had a… disagreement with my escort to the wedding. We had words, and I needed some space." Again this was all true. "I took off to the woods for a walk in the quiet and while I was there I was set upon by Captain Randall. I believe you know of him?" Elsie kept her voice steady. "it was during this… unpleasant encounter," she allowed her voice to shake slightly as though fearful of the memory. "that I lost the majority of my clothes."

"It's true that Captain Randall has a certain reputation, but he is an officer, a gentleman. And you're saying that a man baring the kings commission decided to rape a stray lady he came upon in the woods, for no good reason?"

Elsie felt her heckles rise at his last words. "I wasn't aware that there was ever a 'good' reason for rape, Master Mackenzie." Her tone was like ice.

"I beg your forgiveness madam, an unfortunate turn of phrase on my part." Colum's words felt so desperately insincere. Elsie did not feel the need to acknowledge them.

"I believe we were discussing my transport back to Inverness." She needed away from his place and this time, where apparently rape victims were judged even more harshly than in her own period. Did no one care at all that this man of the king was raping Scottish women? Taking them as and when he pleased because no one would question him because of the colours that he wore? It wasn't ok. There was nothing at all ok about it.

"Aye." Colum agreed. "A tinker by the name of Shaun Petrie, he will be here Saturday next. He stops at Leoch on his way to inverness once a month. Often he has room for one or two passengers."

Elsie nodded and smiled gratefully. "Saturday next," She pulled her best dizty young girl face. "Forgive me, in all the confusion I've managed to lose track of the days."

"Oh not at all," Colum brushed it off. "Five days from now."

Elsie felt her heart clench. Five days amongst these people, these strangers. They thought her to be an English bitch and didn't trust a word that would come out of her mouth and she was stuck with them for five days.

"Meanwhile," Colum continued and stood up. Elsie followed his example and rose to her feet also. "I offer you the hospitality of our humble home."

Elsie nodded her head once again. "Thank you." She told him sincerely. "I am truly grateful for your hospitality."

With those parting words she left the Laird of Leoch. Five days from now she would be on her journey back to her own time. It would be a long journey and she was sure that by then Graeme would have realised that she had not taken off back to Aberdeen without her belongings, he would certainly need an explanation. She would be happy to think one up so long as it meant that she got to go back to a place where women had some form of agency. Where it wasn't strange that she had been taking a walk in the woods by herself.

Elsie stood out on a walkway between areas of Castle Leoch and looked out at the people in the courtyard. There were little boys playing with plastic swords and women and men milling around, going about their days. It warmed Elsie slightly to see Dougal playing with one of the small boys with swords, one whom she assumed was his son.

She didn't stop to watch for too long, however, instead opting to return to her chambers. She had to get ready for dinner. Apparently it was quite the affair in this time.

Elsie took her hair down from the bun that Mrs Fitz had managed to fix it up in. It was painful and tight and she would rather do her own hair, even if she ended up with hair strange and foreign to this time. So she French braided her long hair and tucked the braids back under themselves, making it look as though her hair had been carefully styled, but really it was easy so long as the pins stayed in place.

She didn't want to have dinner with these people. She was afraid of speaking too little or too much. Of saying the wrong thing at all. Still, she entered the dining room with her head held high. All eyes were on her. All the people in the room. They went quiet. Still she kept walking through, and stood before the laird at the top table and curtsied to him. She had no idea at all if that was the correct thing to do or not, but apparently it was, because Dougall stood and pulled out a chair for her, at said top table, next to him.

She took her seat and the rest of the people in the hall went back to their dinner. Colum poured Elsie a generous glass of wine, by way of welcome. She could not be more grateful for the alcohol. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips.

For the love of all that is Holy, that was strong wine. Delicious, but there was that underlying tone that made Elsie know that it was lethal. It was the kind of wine that she used to drink before going out with her friends. The wine whose only purpose was to get you well and truly drunk.

Honestly she was kind of ok with that.

"May I present you with my wife, Leticia," Colum introduced Elsie. "Letcia this is Miss Elsie Duncan,"

Elsie smiled at the woman, she was beautiful, very beautiful. Elsie couldn't help but wonder if she was only with Colum for his status as laird. "Pleased to meet you, my lady." Elsie nodded her head to Lady Mackenzie.

"The pleasure is mine." She returned, he accent was as thick and Scottish as all those around Elsie, but still it came as a surprise to her.

"I trust Mrs FitzGibbons has found you comfortable lodgings?" Colum asked her.

"Oh yes, she's an absolute wonder," Elsie smiled and Leticia joined in the conversation.

"Wonder?" She smiled playfully. "Whats a wonder is how she can bake bannocks such as these in the poor ovens we have in the kitchens." Leticia tossed Elsie across a bannock and she caught it. It had been such a long time since Elsie had eaten a bannock, they used to be one of her grandmothers favourite stodgy foods to make in the winter.

Elsie took a bite, enjoying the memories of childhood that slipped over her tongue as she ate. Colum topped up her wine glass and Elsie started to feel a little more comfortable. As though perhaps these next few days wouldn't be so bad as she initially thought.

"Why Duncan?" Colum asked her.

Elsie frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"I asked why you call yourself Elsie Duncan?"

If she had realised that her interrogation was not yet over, she would not have indulged in the wine that Colum had poured her.

"It's my name…" She told him, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, which to her it was.

"Yes, but if your family hails from England, wouldn't you be more suited to a name such as Brown or Smith?" He was trying to pick holes in her story.

"My mother was English," Elsie shrugged her shoulders. "Her name was Anne Johnson and she lived in London all her life. My father's name, however was Angus Duncan and he hailed from Skye. Lived there until he was seventeen then took off to the big city to make his fortune. Met a girl, got married, had me." She could feel the wine clouding her judgement, she was being far too casual about this. It may be the truth but it was the truth hundreds of years from now.

Elsie took a large gulp of her wine. "I trust that Mr McTavish is feeling better?"

Leticia looked confused. "Mr McTavish?"

"She means young Jamie," Dougal cut in, he was drinking his own wine, clearly not giving much thought to whether 'young Jamie' was doing any better or not.

"Jamie? Why? Whatever is the matter with the lad?" Leticia asked, clearly she had not been informed of the full details of the trip the men had been on.

"Naught but a scratch, my dear." Colum down played the extent of the boy's injuries and Elsie frowned. "Where is he though, Dougal?" He asked his brother.

"I sent him to the stables to help old Alec with the horses."

"The stables?" Colum asked.

"It's the best place for him under the circumstances, didnea want him inside the walls." Dougal didn't feel the need to explain himself any further and Elsie couldn't help the peak in her interest. "But it's yours to choose, if you don't agree with my orders."

It was as though a challenge had been issued between brothers. Elsie quietly ate her food, but was taking everything in. There were so many power plays going on at once, it was like nothing she had ever seen before. At least no outside of a Shakespearian play.

"I recon he'll do well enough there." Colum agreed, he then called for a different bottle of alcohol to be brought over, topping up her glass with something new.

Colum turned his attention back to her. "So your father was from Skye?" He asked, thought it wasn't really a question. "I haven't heard of many Duncan's from Skye."

Elsie shrugged her shoulders again, putting more food in her face so she couldn't speak. "Well after my parents died and I moved back to Skye to live with my grandmother it was just the two of us. I can't imagine that we did anything big enough or important enough to be noticed by any Laird." Elsie could feel her heart beating in her chest.

"Yes I suppose not." Colum's eyes were trained on her, looking for weakness, looking for lies. "How old did you say you were when your parents passed?"

"I didn't." Elsie corrected. "But I was eight when my father died, and my mother died less than a year later shortly after I turned nine. It was after that which I moved to Skye."

He seemed doubtful. "You lived in Skye for an awfully long time to still hold such an English accent, lass."

"Well I suppose I didn't much care for people telling me that I ought to change the way I speak because of where I lived, Master Mackenzie." Elsie smiled somewhat condescendingly at him.

He nodded his head, as though milling her words over. "And what's a girl from Skye doing all the way in Inverness for a wedding?"

"I've actually not lived in Skye for a good many years." Elsie explained. "I moved to Aberdeen to live with … family friends when I was seventeen after my grandmother passed away." She kept going with her way of thinking. "It was these family friends who brought me to Inverness for this wedding."

Colum nodded again. "Where you had a disagreement with them and took a walk in the woods?"

Elsie nodded. "Quite right."

She could see the wheels ticking in his head, he was sure to think that she was a runaway bride. It was the point that the story lead to, she was twenty one years old, no family, she had been living with family friends for years, surely they would want to offload her, they had set up a wedding that she wasn't pleased with and now she had ran away. It made perfect sense.

Except that it was all made up.

Elsie was most grateful for the distraction of a little boy running up to the top table. His face was youthful and joyous and Elsie recognised him as the little boy with whom Dougal had been playing with in the courtyard earlier on.

Of course when she made the social faux pas of calling Dougal his Daddy she realised that it was not indeed Dougal who was the father of the young boy, but Colum himself. At least on paper. Elsie stuttered out her apologies. She was making quite a mess of this evening. She had had too much to drink and opened her mouth much more than she had initially intended to and now it was time to say goodnight. She felt a fool. She made her excuses and made her way to bed.

She would have to learn to keep her mouth shut if she were going to survive the next five days.

* * *

a/n: Two chapters in a week! When I've written it I'm rubbish at keeping it to myself :P I tried this time to move a little away from the TV Show dialogue, while still sticking to the main plot, don't worry I won't be sticking to the show exactly as it is all the time, it's just that these initial movements are very important to the set up of both the original story and this one :) please leave me your thoughts in the form of a review, I am always grateful!


	5. Chapter 5

Elsie sincerely regretted letting her guard down. Not only did she feel as though she had a drum beating in her head, but she had missed breakfast and there was nowhere around here that she could nip to for a bacon buttie and a tin of Irn Bru. She wished that she had at least a few paracetamol to tide her over. Instead she was stuck getting up and dressed by herself and having to deal with the steely, judgemental, eyes of Mrs Fitz. However, instead of accepting the offer of some congealed porridge for breakfast, Elsie found out the whereabouts of Jamie. He had been the one person with whom she had felt truly safe, during her short time in this strange period. So if she could seek him out under the guise of changing his bandages she most certainly would.

She arrived at the stables to see Jamie working with a white mare. She was beautiful and Jamie seemed to have quite the affinity with her, that was until Elsie got close enough to put her picnic basket down and knock over some noisy can, causing the mare to spook and rise up on her hind legs.

"Shit!" Elsie watched as Jamie went to his knees in the corner of the pen, he was almost right next to her. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean… she was, it looked like you had that whole thing really under control!" She was babbling. Raving, wittering, any other way you wanted to put it, the girl was talking and wouldn't shut up. It was just, she should have known better. She knew about how easily horses could spook. She knew exactly how you were meant to approach a horse when you weren't aware of its temperament yet. She'd studied this for one of her placements. She just forgot. "Are you ok?"

Jamie looked frustrated and pulled the sling off of his arm, but nodded. "Aye, I'm fine. She's just a girl with spirit, is all." He gestured back to the horse. "It's always a good thing! And what is it I can do for you Miss Duncan?" He asked.

"Actually, I can do something for you for a change," Elsie pushed her hair back behind her ears, she had allowed it down in its natural state today, unable to face fixing it in her hungover state. "I've got fresh bandages and food. I'm will to share the food with you if you're a good boy who doesn't protest to a bandage change." She gave him her best awkward smile.

Somehow, despite the incredulous look that he gave her patronising language, she managed to make him agree and the pair were sitting down in the stables with their picnic. Elsie wondered how on earth she could feel so much safer out here, with the horses which could trample her at any moment, than she did inside the confines of the castle. She supposed it was because the horses couldn't all scheme to trample her at once, like the humans could.

Jamie clearly had quite the appetite, eating most of the food that she had managed to sneak away from Mrs Fitz' kitchen.

Elsie was watching him as she popped little bits of bread and cheese into her mouth. It was fascinating watching someone eat so unabashedly. Almost like a child. Only with some semblance of table manners. "You've quite the healthy appetite." Elsie commented popping another bit of bread in her mouth.

"Oh aye, I'm a growing boy." He teased.

"A growing boy? I doubt you've done much growing upwards in at least a few years." She shook her head. "How old are you, anyway?"

He was leaning back on his non wounded arm, using his wounded arm to shovel the food in his face. "Twenty and three years." He told and Elsie nodded her head.

"Aye, I would stake that you haven't done any growing in at least five years." She teased him. "Well, apart from maybe muscle, and that doesn't count."

"And what about you?" Jamie asked, starting to tease her. "Have you done any growing at all since you were a lass of seven?"

Elsie scoffed indignantly, hiding the smirk that wanted to overtake her features. "I'll have you know I was twelve when I had my last growth spurt. Not all of us grow to be giants, like you."

While Jamie stood well above six foot, probably closer to six three or four, Elsie was only five foot three on a good day. Back in her own time she had liked to wear boots with a bit of a heel on them in winter as a way of making herself feel taller, but honestly she had been ok with being 'dainty' as her granny had put it.

"Was it all the food, then?" She asked him. "That makes you nice and tall?"

Jamie shook his head. "I doubt it, if it were I'd have lost a few inches a couple of years back."

"Oh?" Elsie was curious, what more could the boy have been through than she had already been told. Jamie told her about a time when he had been so hungry that he had eaten grass. He had been living rough with a group of bandits and they had completely run out of food. Elsie frowned.

"Why didn't you go home?" She asked him. "To your land, to your sister?"

Jamie squinted up at her. "There's a price of ten pounds sterling on my head."

Elsie knew that in this time that must be an awful lot of money. Probably equivalent to thousands of pounds in her own time. "That seems like an awful lot of money for one escaped prisoner."

Jamie shook his head. "I'm not wanted for escaping." He told her. "It's for murder."

Elsie felt like ice was sliding down her spine. Surely not? Surly this man in front of her wasn't capable of such a thing. He was a good boy, a nice boy. Of course she had only known him for a few days and during that time he had been in a battle and came back covered in blood almost every day. But murder someone in cold blood? Elsie couldn't see it. She had always thought that she was a good judge of character. Her surprise and wariness must have showed on her face, because Jamie continued.

"But I didn't actually kill the man I'm wanted for." He explained and she felt as though she could breathe again. The Jamie told her about how he had managed to escape from Fort William. Honestly Elsie was certain that had it been her she would have just laid down and died, but he managed to get out, with the help of a few friends. Someone shot a Red Coat while they were getting free. But not Jamie.

"I was too weak to do anything but hang on to the horse." He explained. "That was four years ago now. I know we can all dream, but there it is."

She was seventeen four years ago, starting university and her own life. Then she was starting her life without Granny. Four years is a long time. Still, she can't even imagine having been on the run that whole time. It seems far too foreign to her, so much work and hardship.

"You do amaze me, Mr McTavish," She told the man as he stood up, clearly ending the conversation. "Though I assume that is not your real name."

He agreed. "A pseudonym of sorts." She was thinking aloud.

"Aye, valuable information my name." He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think that there are any informants in the castle itself, but around the countryside… well, you never know."

Elsie nodded. "Well you can trust I won't be running off to any Red Coats about some stable boy who's wanted for murder." She promised, still curiosity got the better of her. "Why did you tell me?"

"Well, you asked." Jamie's reply was so simple.

"So you just go about telling everyone who asks you your deepest darkest secrets?" She was being facetious, she knew, but he was being just as flippant with her. "We both know that's not true. So why really?"

Jamie shrugged his shoulders and leaned in close to Elsie, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath upon her neck. Close enough that it made her breath hitch. Then he whispered; "I decided to trust you."

Before Elsie had a chance to steady her breathing, or get in her reply the stables master was back and demanding Jamie go back to work. It was enough to make Elsie jolt and pull herself away from the close proximity she found herself in with Jamie.

"I suppose I better get back to work." Jamie stood. "Thank you for the food."

Elsie stood up and dusted the hay off of her dress. "Oh just try not to get yourself, flogged, or shot at or, trampled by a horse and we'll call it even." She smiled.

"No promises, Sassenach." He tossed over his shoulder as he walked away. There it was, that word. Outlander, stranger, English. Still, coming from Jamie's mouth… it felt more like a term of endearment than it did a slur.

Elsie made her way back to the castle, she was almost all the way back before she recognised the man. She had never been much good at watching her surroundings, still, his tailing of her had been so obvious that she was honestly amazed that she hadn't noticed sooner. Was he dense or did he just think that she was? Either way, Elsie turned around to face that boy. He had been one of the lads from the party which had brought her back to Leoch in the first place. She recognised him, but couldn't think of a name.

"Why are you following me?" She asked of him, bluntly, he had been playing with his knife when she approached, but quickly stuffed it into his belt. He had been lucky he hadn't taken a finger off. Honestly, cleaning your nails with a dagger. It was asking for trouble. He just looked at her, dumbly. She knew he could speak, he just didn't want to speak to her. She didn't much care that she was being followed, she knew that she wasn't doing anything wrong. Still, if they wanted to keep an eye on her that bad, then maybe they ought to bloody well tell her that they'd have a man tale her. For all they knew she could get a fright, get violent and attack the poor boy.

"Was it Colum who sent you?" The boy answered in the negative. "Dougal then?" It seemed more likely to be Dougal. The laird had more important things to worry about than one strange English sounding girl. He wasn't aware that she wasn't just some strange English sounding girl, she was some strange _time travelling_ English sounding girl. Maybe that would get the lairds attention.

"You know, for a woman you ask an awful lot of questions." The boy looked irritated by this fact.

"How on earth is my gender and my volume of questions correlated?" She asked of him snootily. She deliberately used big words, hoping he was thick enough not to be able to understand her.

He just shrugged his shoulder. "Doesn't matter, I still can't answer you, lassie. I'm but Dougal's eyes, not his heid. But I best warn you, mistress, these eyes won't be turning their gaze from you until the head orders me to."

Elsie rolled her eyes. Well at least that confirmed who was watching her. "Bully for you." She pushed some of her hair back out of her eyes. "Though I warn you, it'll likely be a boring assignment for you. I do nothing that would be interesting to watch."

They walked back to the castle together. The boy was telling her all about how he was sharing guard duty with another who was named Angus. She found it quite amusing to listen to him whitter on about how he would be a much more enjoyable watchman. Though his words were not quite so… charming as that. Apparently the man was a womaniser and a sheep shagger. Having went to university in Aberdeen, the insult wasn't exactly a new one to Elsie. She got the impression that she was meant to be more offended by her guard's words. Poor boy didn't realise that being raised in a generation of internet trolls and scathing remarks toughened up a girls ears to bad language.

The next few days passed by in monotony. Elsie was put to work by Mrs Fitz in the short time that she was at the castle. Harvesting food for the kitchen was rather fun. She had used to help granny do such things around the island when she was a young girl. While she was out there on her own, despite the old fashioned clumsy clothes she wore, it was almost possible to pretend she was back in her own time. Back on Skye, just enjoying the air and the countryside. Of course she wasn't. And that made the days pass all the more slowly. She needed to get back to the stones and back to her own time. Surely it was possible.

Elsie was lost in her thoughts when she came across a crop of mushrooms growing out of a tree. They were poisonous mushrooms, not exactly the nice wild mushrooms you add to your pasta, but she knew that they had some good healing qualities so couldn't pass up the opportunity to harvest some of them. They would be useful to be the people at the castle.

A voice from behind her let Elsie know that she wasn't alone. Her head banged on the tree branch above her head and she could hear a feminine giggle. "Mother fucker." She hissed under her breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh." The woman whose voice – and warning not to eat the poisoned mushrooms – had startled her was not familiar to Elsie. She rubbed that back of her head.

"I imagine it's funnier from your point of view." She smiled, rubbing the back of her head ruefully. "I did always find slapstick comedy funny, just don't much like being the star." She was whittering again.

The woman who had interrupted her harvest was pretty, that was the first thing Elsie thought about her. She was pretty and had very long, very red hair. "The mushrooms may not be good for soup," she told the redhead. "But if you dry them out to make a powder then it works pretty well to clot bleeding. In the few days that I've spent with the men at that castle, I imagine they need to stop bleeding more than I would care to think." She shook her head then stuck out her hand.

"I'm Elsie, by the way. Elsie Duncan."

The woman didn't take her hand. "I know who you are, Elsie, the village has been ahum with talk about you since you came to the castle."

Elsie felt the blush rise to her cheeks. "I would imagine so. I can't think that there would be too much else to gossip about around here."

The woman smirked. "No, you would think not. My name is Geillis Duncan."

Elsie felt her stomach tightened. "I hadn't realised that there were any other Duncan's in the village." She forced a smile.

"Aye," Geillis nodded. "A common enough name here, I wouldn't imagine it would be so common where you're from, though." She was hinting to Elsie's accent as her heritage.

"My father was a Scotsman from the Isle of Skye. A common enough name there too." She smiled, then made a small face. "So what is it that they're saying about me in the village?" She asked.

"That you're likely a sassinach spy."

Elsie nodded. That would explain why she was being followed. She was too useless to be a spy, she couldn't gather intelligence when she barely even knew what year she was in. Still, it was better than them managing to guess the truth.

She had clearly been silent for too long, because Geillis started pointing at flowers in the garden around them. Telling her that they could be used to terminate a pregnancy if used early enough. If used too late it would kill both mother and child. Elsie was quite impressed. That wasn't something that granny had taught her and had her put in her herb book. Apparently the village people thought that Geillis was a witch.

Wasn't it still a dangerous time to have someone consider you a witch? "Well, are you a witch?" Elsie asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"Hardly."

Elsie liked this woman, she seemed as though she had some sense about her. A little more substance than the girls she had seen about the castle. Not that many of those girls would talk to her. She was glad that she was only staying at Leoch for a few days, because Elsie imagined it would be rather a lonely existence for her.

"You should come visit me some time in the village. I have a cabinet full of potions with medical value that I wager would tickle your fancy." That did sound fun.

"I would like that," Elsie smiled. "But I'm afraid that I'm leaving in only a day or so. Back to Inverness."

There was a flicker in Geillis' eyes, as though she knew something that Elsie did not. "Tis a pity. Though never mind, I hope that I will still see you tonight at the hall."

"At the hall?"

Geillis explained that it was an evening to which the people of the village and surrounding lands could come forth to the laird and state any grievances. The two women made their arrangements and said there goodbyes for the time being.

The hall that evening was more than interesting. Geillis saught Elsie out and the two were watching the goings on together. Of course Elsie did not mention to Geillis that she could understand a lot more Gaelic that she could speak. Instead she opted to let the women explain the bickerings of the common people to her. It was all rather boring, to be honest. Colum would pass judgement and people would generally accept what was said. Things did, however, start to heat up when an older man dragged a young blonde girl out with him to the middle of the hall.

Apparently he was the girl's father and he was accusing her of 'loose behaviour; consorting improperly wi' young men against his orders'. Honestly. It was enough to make Elsie's bristles rise. The man was requesting that Colum punish the girl for disobedience. The tension in the room was thick. This was clearly a bit of business that would be enjoyed and gossiped about later. Much more fascinating that a skirmish over a cow.

Colum passed his judgement and a bristle went through the hall. Elsie found it interesting to watch, though she couldn't believe what was about to happen. Two men took the girl, one for each arm. They spun her around, so that her back was to the laird, her face to the people gathered. It was a humiliating position for her to be in. They were going to… Elsie couldn't think of how to word it right even in her head. Was it a beating or a spanking? Either way it was a humiliation.

Something caught Elsie's eye, a conversation going on at the other side of the hall from her between Jamie and Murtagh. They seemed to be disagreeing over something, though Elsie was much too far away to know what. Then Jamie did something completely bizarre.

He offered to take the girls punishment for her. Elsie felt something in the pit of her stomach. Something that wasn't nice. It felt akin to jealousy, but she quickly pushed that idea aside. What on earth did she have to be jealous of? Jamie wasn't really anything to her. There was a lot of back and forth between Jamie and Colum. Elsie was struggling to keep up, she could understand a lot of things, but this conversation was going a little too fast for her. They were clearly coming to an agreement. In the end it was when Dougal whispered a word in his brother's ear that it was allowed.

Jamie smirked as though it were a victory and the blonde girl ran off into the waiting arms of Mrs Fitz. Elsie wondered what the relationship was there, but brushed it aside. She felt that feeling bubbling away in her gut as Jamie chose to take the punishment as fists rather than the strap.

She was just angry because the idiot was still injured. Still injured and now Elsie had to watch as he allowed another man to beat the living daylights out of him when he couldn't fight back. Honestly Elsie felt like a cartoon. She was seeing red.

Then she wasn't anymore. When the first punch hit Elsie grabbed Geillis' hand. She couldn't help herself. It was awful. It was brutal. It was barbaric beyond anything she had ever seen in person. She had never seen someone punched when everyone else didn't jump in stop them.

She flinched with every punch. It didn't seem to stop. Jamie was being punched directly on his injuries. Deliberately trying to cause the most damage. Geillis explained that it would end when blood was drawn.

Only it didn't. It kept going. And going. And Elsie took a half step forward to try to stop it herself, but Geillis kept her in her place.

What kind of place was this? How could they do this to their own people? Espeically when Jamie had done no wrong. Nothing but try to protect a young girl. What were these people?

Elsie watched as Jamie hobbled away, clearly having exasperated his injuries. When she went to follow him Geillis took her a shortcut which attracted less eyes and gossip as to why the young Sassenach girl cared about what happened to Jamie Fraser.

She cooked up some painkilling herbs into water to form a tea of some kind to help the boy. "Here." She handed it to him, her words somewhat brusque. "Why did you do that?" She asked him, ringing out a cloth to clean the blood off of his body. "Take the girls punishment for her, do you know her?" The implication was there. Were you the boy that she had apparently been loose with? She didn't want to come out and say it, but she couldn't help but wonder.

Still, Jamie didn't know her, other than by name. Never even spoken to the girl and he took the punishment for her.

"So you just did it to deliberately ruin all the work I've put into healing you?" Elsie asked, she had meant it to come across as light hearted, but her tone pushed it off the mark.

No he did it because the girl would have been shamed by what had happened. He could take bruises but her delicate little ego wouldn't have been able to take it.

"You're a silly bugger, Jamie," She told him, shaking her head. "But a good man."

It was a shiner of a black eye that he had managed to get, but Elsie was almost finished patching the boy up when Mrs Fitz came in with special herbs for Jamie to rinse his mouth out with. To sterilise and numb. She thanked him for what he did before explaining to Elsie that Laoghaire was her granddaughter.

The older woman was quite overcome back emotion. Clearly it had been quite the day for everyone.

Elsie took a deep breath forcing all of her emotions down. She must be PMSing or something because she cared far too much about the events of the last hour. She tried to put on her professional 'I'm your doctor' voice. "You'll be able to take your bandages off your shoulder in two days."

Jamie frowned. "Wouldn't it be easier for you to do it?" He asked her.

"Probably for you," She smiled. "But I'm going back to Inverness tomorrow."

"Oh, I see."

Perhaps it was wishful thinking on her part, but it almost sounded as though Jamie was disappointed when she said she was leaving. Of course Elsie shouldn't care if he was either way because she needed to get home to pick up the broken pieces of her life and find a nice handsome man who was born within her own century to eventually have a life with. Not think about the handsome redhead in front of her.

"Well, then perhaps this is goodbye." Jamie said to her.

"I guess it is." Elsie smiled and was about to go in to kiss Jamie on the cheek when the creaking of a door distracted her. The girl, Laoghaire was there loitering. Instead she patted Jamie softly on his non injured shoulder. "I think someone would like to speak with you. Alone."

She looked at him, all six foot odds of muscle and ginger hair and bright shining eyes and freckles. "Goodbye, Jamie,"

He wished her a safe journey and Elsie pushed down the sad weight that sat on her chest as she left the room.

She needn't have worried, though. For that was far from the last time that Elsie saw Jamie Fraser. She was up bright and early the next morning ready for the journey ahead of her. She had a care package from Mrs Fitz to last her a few days on the road and the two women said a warm goodbye, a far cry from the awkwardness of the night before with Jamie.

She was all ready to take her place on the wagon to Inverness when Dougal arrived and told her that she must see the laird.

An uneasy feeling set in Elsie's gut while she followed the grumpy scotsman through the winding castle. Nothing good could come of this. She could feel it in her bones. She wasn't even superstitious and she could feel it. He hadn't lead her to Colum. He hadn't led her to anywhere near the Lairds office space, no this was someplace else entirely.

Dark, with little bottles all around, the room had a large fireplace and was lit by candle light. However, Colum was indeed present. He wished her a good day then started talking in riddles. Was she related to the Beaton's? The Beaton's were apparently good healers. They had had a Beaton healer but he had passed away. This all seemed very irrelevant when there was a man with a wagon outside who was meant to be taking her one step closer to home.

This room, he was telling her was a surgery, the doctors space. The dread in her belly grew when Colum mentioned her skills as a healer and that she knew what the potions in the room would do, that she could understand the words written in the man's healing book. "Some of them, yes," She agreed. "This is very interesting, thank you for showing me, but I should really be going. I have a long journey back to Inverness ahead of me." She reminded him.

It was as though he hadn't heard her. "Seeing as we have no healer since our last one passed, I want you to take over the work." He informed her.

It was like a punch in the stomach.

"But I'm leaving." Her voice was small.

"No. You are not."

And he had his rant about women and secrets and how she would not be going anywhere until she knew them all. Only she couldn't tell him her secrets. She couldn't tell anyone her secrets. Her secrets would label her a mad woman at best and a witch at worst. So he left her there in the dark and horrid 'surgery'. Alone with the cobwebs, the dirt and thinly veiled threats.

She waited until the sounds of footsteps had long since disappeared from her hearing. Then she wept.

And then, when she was done weeping, she started planning how she would escape to make her own way home.

* * *

A/N I am unsure as to what I make of this chapter. I enjoyed doing some Elsie and Jamie interactions. Elsie is not so oblivious as Claire to the handsome Scotsman. I would love your feedback! Please leave a review to let me know what you make of it all!


	6. Chapter 6

It involved keeping her head down. That was one of the main things that Elsie learned, when she was trying to work out a plan of escape. She couldn't draw too much attention to herself, and she shouldn't fight the norm too much. That was the only reason that she was allowing Mrs Fitz to help her bathe and dress. She hadn't had anyone do this for her since she was around eight years old. Certainly by the time she moved to Scotland to live with Granny she was already old enough that she could do these things for herself.

And another thing; there was no running water, hot or cold. So making do with a basin of water that was lukewarm at best – and Elsie would argue that it was actually much closer to stone cold – was about as close as she was getting to a hot shower.

She did her best not to fight it. Apparently it was completely normal here. Maybe because they didn't have showers so you needed someone else to dump the vat of water over your head, maybe because they were staying in the castle with the Laird, Elsie didn't know. All she knew was that being naked in front of another person was something that she considered to be a very intimate thing, and Mrs Fitz was certainly not a person she wanted to be naked in front of.

She seemed to be obsessed with the fact that Elsie's skin was so smooth. A lack of scarring, or blemishes. Sure she did have some wonderful creamy skin, but she really didn't think that it was that strange. She still had freckles, and moles, and other lumps and bumps that humans had. She would prefer if Mrs Fitz just didn't look at her skin all that closely if she was being honest.

Still, she was quite grateful for someone to help her with the putting on of her clothes. It was almost impossible to lace up a corset by yourself. And Elsie had never exactly been one to want to wear a corset back in the days before she travelled here, honestly she didn't know anybody who wore real corsets back before she was here. It was more of a lingerie thing really. Not something that Elsie had ever dabbled in.

Mostly she just went about her business, trying to work out what was happening and what exactly a 'gathering' was.

It seemed to her, like some big extended family reunion. Only it wasn't just one family, it was all the families who lived on the Mackenzie's land. And they were all going to be coming here, and that was –according to Mrs Fitz – going to mean a lot of work for Elsie. She was their 'physic' so she was going to have to deal with any ailments, be that from drunken brawls to children who had eaten too many sweeties. There were going to be eyes on her and she was going to have to do well. Because if she did well then she might somehow manage to get in favour with 'Himself'.

Elsie wanted to tell Himself where he could shove his favour, but she didn't. She just went about her business, building up her herbs and spices, reading through old medical journals. It was so strange reading through this approach to medicine, which was positively medieval. Dung and bugs and potions and leaches. Things that wouldn't even cross Elsie's mind in ordinary circumstances were things that she had to work with. She had to apply her own modern knowledge to the time period and attempt not to stick out like a sore thumb or get accused of being a witch or a demon or some other kind of folk lore superstition.

She still hated the dungeons that she had been assigned to with a passion. But it wasn't so bad once she managed to get rid of some of the most ridiculous pieces of Deacon's collection. She could do a little something to help people, heal them. Save them from going to see a witchdoctor or whatever else they were called back in the 1700s. The two 'guards' that Dougal had assigned to watch Elsie started slacking off from their duties, leaving her to get on with it, something that she was not going to complain about.

When she had to go searching for them in the kitchen, where they hid themselves away drinking, when Elsie found out about the death of a child, and that superstition was indeed a deadly thing in this time.

Mrs Fitz had sent Colum's chambermaid, Shona, home for the day, worried about her, the woman's nerves were shot, unable to go on about work, her unsteady hands dropping the dish that she was drying.

Elsie found out that it was her son, Lyndsay who had passed away the night before.

A young boy had died after going on an adventure with his friends, off to see some ruins that were known to all who was born and raised in the surrounding area. Mrs Fitz had called it the Black Kirk. They seemed to believe that spirits roamed the ruins, and would sneak into the bodies of the children who visited there, possessing them and ultimately causing an untimely death.

Of course Elsie didn't believe a word of it. She was far too logical to believe in spirits and demons and witch craft. She had seen far too much in her short life, and found it quite hard to refrain from rolling her eyes and actively scoffing at the superstition in the room. The fact that everyone kept blessing themselves with the sign of the cross just made it seem more comical to her. Only the solemn fact that a child had indeed died kept Elsie from voicing her opinions.

It did, however, make her curious to see this so called Black Kirk.

But before she could even make a plan to get out to see these ruins and if there was something there that would make these rumours of 'spirits' understandable she was called away by Mrs Fitz nephew, Tom Baxter, to see the Laird.

Elsie knew that there was nothing which she could do to help Colum, his ailment was incurable, a disease that he was born with and one that he would inevitably die from. She was already surprise that he had lived to such an age and still had the use of his legs. Most men and women in his situation would have been long since bedridden.

She arrived to the Laird having a conversation with the tailor, not something that Elsie particularly cared to listen to. She was busy watching the mannerisms of the tailor, idly wondering if they man was just camp or if he was gay and hiding it with the wedding band on his finger. She supposed that it must be hard in this time, to be gay, or even curious. There was no such thing as the LGBT+ community in 1700's Scotland. From what she had seen so far and what she had gathered from her ex boyfriend's research, it was all a bit of a joke.

Knowing that she now lived amongst this attitude had bile rising in the back of her throat.

Elsie was brought back to the present by a thick tension in the room, Colum was accusing the tailor of mocking him, something to do with his frock coat being longer than the average frock coat. Elsie didn't really know what the average length of such things were, but she could clearly tell that this was something which had gravely offended Colum.

Enough so that he had drawn a dagger. Elsie's heart was pounding in her chest. Such casual threats of deathly violence. How could this be normal? How could this be something that just happened? If this had been back home, home in her own time, she would have been on her phone to 999 emergency services within a split second. She would probably have to make a long statement to the police, be a witness in a court case. It all would be very formal and very dramatic. Instead this was just normal. No one would reprimand Colum for this. No one would think it odd or ill that he had drawn a dagger against a man for an infraction of thinking that the Laird may wish to hide his sickly legs.

Elsie waned to say something, say anything, but want for her own freedom was stronger. She needed to have the Laird on her side if she ever wanted out of this place, and she so badly wanted out of this place. Sadly, sometimes self-preservation was stronger than her want to be a good person.

Thankfully no deathly urges came across Colum, merely threats. The tailor scuttled out of the room, the offending coat bundled up in his arms, muttering thanks for the opportunity to make a new, shorter, frockcoat by the next day.

The whole situation left a bad taste in Elsie's mouth but she didn't mention it, instead asking of her a massage. It wasn't something which Elsie had much experience of. She had never massaged anyone in her life. She had massaged the belly of a pregnant cow, though she imagined that it was not the belly which the Laird wished to have soothed. Instead she was working on the base of his spine, hoping to give the man some relief from what must have been at best constant discomfort, at worst agonising pain.

While she massaged him they managed to get onto the topic of the dead boy.

"It's the devils work. Foolish boy, he went after the Black Kirk." Colum told her, leaning back into her massage as he crossed himself. "Sometimes I wonder what I did, to make the devil punish me like this."

Elsie frowned, it was sad that the Laird before her thought that this affliction was something that he had brought on himself, that a disease that he was born with that he could do nothing about. She pitied him.

"What? You don't have demons where you're from Miss Duncan?" He rebuked, wincing in pain as she touched a nerve in her massaging.

Elsie smiled tightly and chewed over her words carefully before replying. "I suppose we do, though the demons which I'm more accustomed to seeing are foxes who steal chickens from farmers, and plights of bugs which ruin perfectly good crops. Never those which kill little boys." Or take the use of a man's legs, though she did not dare say that out loud. The man made a noise when Elsie kept on with her massaging. "I'm sorry is that hurting you?"

The Laird shook his head. "No lass, to the contrary you are easing the pain."

She wished that her cheeks didn't glow with a little pride at that. She liked being able to help people, she liked knowing that she had done something which made someone feel better, or at least less awful.

Colum continued on to ask her to join him as his guest in the great hall that evening, advising that there would be music, a singer famous in those parts.

It was more of a summons than a request, but Elsie thanked him nonetheless.

This was a good thing for her, she considered, this could mean that she was in favour, or at least getting towards being in favour, with the Laird. He wanted her to join him in an evening of festivities. Perhaps regularly massaging the base of his spine would be beneficial to them both. She could deal with seeing his bony arse a few times a week if it bought her her ticket back to Inverness and potentially back to her own time.

She knew that there wasn't anything waiting for her back there, but it was still what she longed for. The familiar, a hot shower, wearing jeans, or a sundress. Being able to get on a bus and be at the beach, forty miles away, in under an hour. She missed the internet, and memes and she missed having other people's knowledge to defer to at her fingertips. She missed being able to read the comment sections on the Daily Mail and get angry that she lived in a country with so many idiots. She also missed reading some of the insightful and wonderful comments that other people in her country had to make.

She just missed her community, one that didn't think less of her because she was a woman. Or because her accent didn't sound like it was from the Scottish Highlands.

Still, getting back there was dependant on being in good favour here. So she made herself pretty and went to the singing. She had on a pretty dress that Mrs Fitz helped her into, and she took her hair down out of their French braids, allowing the waves to fall down around her face and shoulders, only pushing some of back with pins. She pinched her cheeks in the way that granny said women did before rouge was widely available.

The hall was filled with people, the bustle and warmth was a nice change to the dank and bleak dungeon that she spent so much of her time in.

Elsie was people watching, it was a game that she and Graeme used to play whenever they were in a bus restaurant or a large party. You picked a group of people, or a couple, or generally anyone in the room and you made up a back story for them, deciding on what was being said between them in that moment.

She was in the middle of assigning a confrontation about an affair to what appeared to be a bickering couple when Dougal came up by her side, causing her to jump slightly. She tried to keep the frown off her face, and a bit of distance between them, but the older man was right in at her side whispering into her ear about how Colum looked on good form that evening, thanking her for her help in that.

Elsie kept trying to edge away from him. She couldn't help but wonder how he could be thanking her for helping his brother while also coming across as a lecherous creep. Oh yes, she knew men like Dougal Mackenzie, and didn't hold much stock in them either. She was just here to listen to the music, not to have him push her hair out of her face. That made her wish that she had left it all up in her braids.

She was saved by the artist entering the room, allowing her to make her excuses to get closer and see the music. She had a glass of wine, or mead, or whatever they wished to call it, but it made her belly warm and her anxiety lower, and she sat down on a bench to watch the music. A young blonde girl sat down beside her, the one that she recognised from the great hall, who Jamie had taken a beating for. She looked at the girl with interest.

"I don't think we've ever been formally introduced," She began, giving the younger girl a smile. "I'm Elsie Duncan."

The girl nodded, her long blonde curls bouncing slightly as she did. "Laoghaire Mackenzie," She introduced herself, clearly distracted. Elsie let her eyes follow to where the younger girls were clearly preoccupied, catching sight of Jamie. The blonde was quite clearly taken with him, something that Elsie could understand. Tall, redheaded, muscular, and rather charming, that and he had taken a beating and public humiliation for the girl. It was certainly enough to warrant a crush.

"He's not bad to look at, Jamie, is he?" She commented, taking a sip of her drink.

"Aye," Laoghaire replied, still watching him from afar. "But it's no me he fancies." She said bluntly.

This took Elsie's interest. She made eye contact with Jamie across the room and gave him a smile and a wave, all but gesturing for him to come over and join them.

"I wouldn't know about that," She said to the younger girl. "But I'll tell you that men rarely know what they actually want, I wouldn't give up hope just yet."

Jamie arrived at their bench and greeted the two women, sitting down between the two girls.

Elsie flashed the redhead a bright smile. "I was just telling Laoghaire here how beautiful she looks tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

Jamie didn't even give the girl a second glance. "Aye, she's bonnie."

They were saved from any further awkward small talk by the start of the music. Elsie had never heard such beautiful and majestic live music. The harp combined with the man singing, it was almost hypnotic. He was singing in Gaelic, which caused Elsie to struggle to follow the story, though she wished that she could.

She leaned across to ask her two companions. "Has the musician been at the castle long?"

Laoghaire looked as though she were going to answer, but Jamie leaned in closer to her first.

"Aye, a good many years. I spent a year here when I was around sixteen and he was still here then. Colum pays him well, so he does. He would have to, for the man would be welcome at any Lairds heart."

Elsie nodded her head and went back to watching the music. The blonde girl interjected.

"I remember when you were here before." She told him with a tilt of the head.

When Jamie didn't reply Elsie asked, "Do you?" Having a sip of her drink and encouraging the younger girl.

Jamie looked somewhat uncomfortable. "You couldn't have been much more than seven or eight yourself." He commented, making the blonde girl smile and look down.

Jamie leaned across and said to Elsie conspiratorially. "I doubt I was much to see then, so as to be remembered."

"But I do remember though," Laoghaire said, boldly. "You were so… I mean, do you not remember me from then?"

"No," Jamie said, though not harshly, Elsie felt herself cringe for the girl. It was clearly not the answer she was wanting. "No I don't think so."

Laoghaire's face had fallen. "Still, I wouldnae be likely to." He commented, more to Elsie than the Laoghaire. "A young bucky of sixteen is too taken up with his own grand self to pay much heed to what he thinks of as a rabble of snot nosed bairns."

Elsie elbowed him in the side at that. He was clearly so oblivious to the fact that the blonde was trying to flirt with him, or at least get some kind of attention. He looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly, before looking back to the performer.

Laoghaire looked as though she may cry at any moment.

They watched the music for a few more minutes, before Jamie commented on the glass of wine in her hand.

"It's really good," Elsie nodded her head, taking another sip. "This is my second – no, third, glass!"

Jamie took the glass out of her hand, taking a drink of it himself, not offering it back to her. "Most folks who drink it with Colum are under the table by the second glass."

Well that explained why her head was foggy. "Are you implying that I am drunk?" She asked him, a little smirk on her face, and perhaps a little flirtatiously.

"I'd be impressed if you weren't." He replied, keeping a hold of the wine glass. The song came to an end and they applauded. It really was amazing that no matter the time period you were in good music would always be there.

"This dressing has been chafing at me for days," Jamie leaned close and said to her. "Would you mind taking a look at it for me?"

Elsie gave him a confused look. "What, now?"

Jamie nodded. "Aye,"

She couldn't think of a reason to say no. "Yeah, ok."

Jamie finished her glass of wine, then handed it to the young blonde who had been sitting with them. "Take that back with you, lass." He told her, before nodding at Elsie and leading her out of the room.

They walked down to the dungeon in relative silence, Elsie only stumbling a little while they went. When they arrived Elsie turned and smiled at him. "Alright, let's have a look at your shoulder then." She hopped up to sit on her medicine table, her let's swinging slightly as she dangled them.

"Ah, I don't need your help," He told her, with a rue smile. "I just thought that I should see you back to the surgery while you can still stand upright."

Elsie's jaw dropped slightly affronted. "Cheeky," She told him, running a hand back through her wavy dark hair. "Though I suppose I may have gone a bit overboard. You know I was one of the best drinkers in my halls back in the day." She told him, not thinking that he wouldn't understand a word of it.

"Pardon, mistress?" He asked, but Elsie just shook her head.

"Never mind. Thank you for bringing me back here, I should have known that you were fine. If it had really been uncomfortable you'd just have ripped off the bandages yourself." She accused.

Jamie looked mock affronted. "I was afraid to. I thought I would get my arse scelpted for touching it."

Elsie grinned a little at that, as though she had that power. "Too right," She told him, "I'm the 'Healer' after all. I'm in charge here." She giggled that last part.

Jamie was not managing to keep a straight face at her, so he just nodded. "Aye, you are."

Elsie rubbed her face. "But in all seriousness, if you were uncomfortable you should have told me, I could have taken it off for you when I visited you at the stables."

Jamie shook his head and it prompted Elsie to remember the scars on his back.

"You don't want Alec to see that you've been flogged." She realised, some of the drunkenness leaving her as she thought about it.

Jamie nodded his head, coming to sit by her on her bench. His legs did not dangle the way hers did.

"Aye, he knows I was flogged, but he has not seen it. Seeing it is different."

Elsie nodded her head.

"It's a bit… personal, maybe. I think if Alec were to see the scars, he wouldn't see me any more without seeing my back." Jamie contemplated.

That seemed sad to her. Elsie reached across and gave his knee a comforting squeeze. "Yet you don't mind me seeing your back?"

Jamie shook his head. "You have a knack for letting me know that you feel sorry for it, but not making me feel pitiful about it at the same time."

Elsie gave him a sad little smile. "I'm glad."

It was Jamie's turn to nod. "I should go." He stood up.

"Not so fast," Elsie grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. "Let me take a look at your shoulder before you go." She stood up and started playing with his jacket and shirt, undressing him slightly so that she could have a look at the wound on his shoulder. He allowed her to do it. "It's looking good." She told him, mildly. "It's all scabbed over, there doesn't appear to be any drainage. I'll be able to take those bandages off in a few days." She was still leaning up close with him as she explained.

"As you say," He agreed with her, an amused look on his face.

"Goodnight, Mr MacTavish." Elsie said, not taking a step back. She didn't know what was coming over her, was it the alcohol, was it the dark room, or was it his proximity? She didn't know what it was, but she wanted to kiss him.

"Goodnight, Miss Duncan." Jamie was the one to step away first.

It was definitely for the best, because had he kissed her, there in that moment, Elsie definitely would not have stopped him. She had wanted him to.

He left the dungeons, and then she was alone, her heart all aflutter in a way that it hadn't been in a long time.

* * *

A/N hello, it has been a very long time, I know. I don't come with any excuses, only that I've had a broken laptop and a fulltime miserable job, as well as moving cities (only to be deciding to move back to that city now so I can go back to uni to sit my masters year!). I hope that this chapter was worth the wait, to me it feels a little like filler, and sticks a little too close to the televison show. But we do have some Jamie Elsie action? So please do leave a review and let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

Meeting with Geillis Duncan was a risk, of that much she was sure. She had already had to try to convince the Laird that she had no relation to the old fiscal, Arthur, with whom Geillis was married. Still, the older woman knew things about herbs in this time that Elsie did not, that and there was something about Geillis, something familiar in the way the woman watched her. As though she knew something that you did not.

Of course her trusty guard was not best pleased about the meeting, but the grumpy wee Scotsman was rarely happy with anything that didn't involve him sitting in the kitchen drinking ale from his tankard.

Elsie made her way through the gardens, half listening to the small town gossip that Geillis was dishing out – it wasn't really something that Elsie had ever taken any interest in – but her ears pricked up when Geillis mentioned that she was collecting herbs for Father Bain, almost absently mentioning that he planned on performing an exorcism on the Baxter boy, wee Tam, Mrs Fitz nephew.

It gave Elsie pause, what on earth was wrong with the boy that they felt the need to perform an exorcism. Of course such things were far outdated in Elsie's day, it seemed silly to her, laughable. Yet here she was with a woman who was talking about it so casually that she got easily distracted by berries out of season.

Elsie felt she had to bring her back a few steps. "Did you just say exorcism?" She contributed to the conversation for the first time that day.

Geillis nodded. "Apparently Thamas Baxter went to the Black Kirk with wee Lindsay McNeill and now the young fool is seized with the same evil." She told her absently still picking berries as she spoke. "Want some?" She offered the younger woman.

Elsie shook her head. "No thank you." Her brow was furrowed, trying to think how she could help this young boy, there wasn't a chance that he was actually possessed. Such a thing was ludicrous. Still, how was she to explain that to a group of people who were literally living in the past? Well, technically it was the present and she was from the future, but that just seemed too bizarre to her.

"What is it?" Geillis asked, seeing the concern on Elsie's face. "What's wrong with you?"

Elsie chewed over her words carefully. "It's just the boy, he's Mrs Fitz nephew. She's so fond of him." Elsie played with her hair. "You say an exorcism will be performed but what's actually wrong with the boy? Is he ill?"

Geillis was looking at her with amusement on her face. "He's not ill, he's possessed." She was playing with her shall. "Do you not believe in demonic possession, Elsie?" The woman asked, something akin to mirth playing across her face.

Elsie almost felt scorned by the words and retorted scornfully. "Well, do you?"

"I believe there are powers beyond our ken, beyond what we can see and hear and touch. Demon, faery, devil, it doesn't matter what name you put upon them. But you believe in the powers of magic, do you not?" The words wove together as though rehearsed, as though Geillis had been planning on telling her this and the whole day unfolding this was. The redhead was watching her closely.

Elsie turned away to avoid her eyes. "I don't know. I haven't given it too much though, if I'm being honest." She lied.

"Have you never found yourself in a situation with no earthly explanation?" Geillis prodded, and Elsie looked at her, her heartbeat speeding up, wondering what the redhead knew.

"You have to admit," Elsie changed the subject. "There's a possibility that the boy is actually sick and not possessed. And if he is, then what use is an exorcism? He should be seen by a physician if he can be helped."

The look that she received was almost one of pity. "People believe that the boy is possessed, Elsie. You can challenge that at your peril. I'll not go near him and neither should you."

Elsie shook her head. "You're wrong."

With that she started walking away, ignoring the calls from her trusty guard wondering where she was going.

How could she just let a young boy die when she knew that there was something that could potentially be done? She started the walk into town, going to the house where she knew the sickly boy lived. She ignored the callings of Angus who was shouting warnings about interfering with the spirit world. "Colum won't like it!" He said in a last ditch attempt. "It's no your place."

She paused in her walking for a moment. She wanted to be free of this castle and its laird, to make her way back to Inverness and get home to her own time. Where there were bacon butties, and Irn Bru and Memes! God, how she missed spending pointless hours on the internet.

But could she really just let a boy die without help to keep herself under the radar.

"I thought that would change your mind." Angus said smugly.

Elsie gave the man a look of utmost distain. She couldn't not at least see the boy. "You thought wrong."

And with that, wishing she had a much wittier retort she went into the house, it was dark, and crowded. Mrs Fitz was sitting there with a child on her lap, other children scampered around the small space.

The 'possessed' boy was strapped down to the bed, moaning, sweating and squirming against his binds.

"My sister has gone to fetch Father Bain." Mrs Fitz told Elsie, who was beside the bed in an instant, untying the boys binds.

"Why on earth is he bound?" She asked, unable to keep the judgement out of her tone.

"In case he gets violent." Mrs Fitz retorted, as though it were obvious. "The demons, ye ken."

Elsie couldn't help shaking her head as she kept untying the boy. Then took a fit, gasping for air. She could almost see why they would think he was possessed if they didn't know what they were looking for.

"I'm here to help." Elsie explained. "Are his symptoms similar to what Lindsay experienced?" She asked, feeling the boy's clammy face he wasn't feverish, so she could all but rule out an infection.

Mrs Fitz nodded. "Aye, exactly the same, but wee Lindsay was weak to begin with so the devils took him much faster."

Elsie nodded her head. "Are any of the others ill?"

Mrs Fitz clutched the child in her arms tighter, tearfulness overtaking her. "No, they're all right as rain."

Elsie looked into the boy's eyes, small as pin pricks. Poison would be her guess. "Thamas, what have you been eating?" She asked, half to the boy, half just to herself.

"He's taken nothing but a bit of broth in the last day," Mrs Fitz supplied. "Most of that he brought back up again."

She stopped when Thamas started speaking, words of a frightened child, telling whatever he saw to get away from him.

Mrs Fitz panicked blaming the devil and Elsie wanted to shoo her and all of the others out of the room, it was entirely unhelpful to be shrouded in such superstition.

"He's just hallucinating, Mrs Fitz, it's another symptom." She tried tugging at the ropes again, but they wouldn't come undone. "Can you get me something to cut these ropes?" She asked, frustration leaking into her tone.

"I wouldnae be doing that miss," Mrs Fitz started, but was interrupted by the coming of the minister.

"I would say not." He boomed.

"What are you playing at Glenna? Letting a stranger in at a time like this!" A woman shouted at Mrs Fitz, Elsie could only assume that it was her sister.

"I'm only trying to help," Elsie tried to placate the woman.

"Miss Duncan is a healer!" Mrs Fitz fought back, "And a good one, she may be able to help!"

The minister started with his ceremony and Elsie felt her patience wear thing. "Mrs Baxter he needs to be untied, and fresh air needs to be let in. I believe I can ease his suffering." She looked the woman right in the eyes. "Just give me a chance."

The older woman didn't reply, she just cried, clutching her youngest child closest to her, trying not to watch as the minister doused her child in holy water.

It was Mrs Fitz who spoke. "Best make way now, lass. Let the father do his work."

Elsie shook her head but she left the house, angry that they were letting this happen when she could actually help the boy. He was going to die and they were going to let it happen with nothing else but let him be damp with apparently 'blessed' water.

They went back up to the castle, Elsie's patience getting stretched to further than she thought possible when Angus kept asking her stupid superstitious questions. She just wanted to be left along with the limited resources that she had here to see if she could figure out what had poisoned the boy. She didn't even know much about human poisoning. She could tell you a lot about what poisoned cows and sheep. Issues around a farm, but she wasn't a real doctor. She was just going to be a vet, she didn't really know what to look for.

She took a seat on a stool in the castle, waiting for Angus to come back from whatever banter he wanted to have with his friends in the kitchen. Elsie rubbed her forehead. She felt so helpless, she wanted something more that she could do. She looked up at the sound of giggles coming from the next way over.

There was Jamie McTavish, kissing Laoghaire, he had his hands all over her. It was somewhat like a punch to the chest. She didn't know why, she had no claim to him, they had no understanding, she hadn't kissed him, or even spoken to him much. Her eyes met Jamie's for a second, and she looked down, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

She wasn't allowed to be upset. It was illogical for her to be upset. He just took her down to her room. Laoghaire had clearly been interested in him. Elsie had helped him see that. It was a good deed for them both. That was all.

Thankfully the moment was interrupted by Angus coming back, a bottle of beer in his hand, mockingly praising her for being able to follow a man's orders.

Later that night at dinner Elsie had has a glass of wine and was feeling particularly vindictive. She hadn't made much of an effort for dinner leaving it down, lose and wavy. She took a sip of her wine and looked a Jamie who was sitting opposite her. "Your lips look awfully swollen, Jamie, were you hit in the face by a horse?" She asked, politely as ever.

He gave her a somewhat sharp look. "Aye." He agreed, knowing exactly what she was playing at. "Swung his head when I wasn't looking."

Elsie managed to keep her face straight. "That's too bad, those fillies can be dangerous." Double meaning edging her words sharply.

She felt him press his food a top hers under the table and a little smirk graced her features.

"Fillies? Alec has you working with fillies now?" Murdoch asked, frowning.

Elsie pulled her foot out from under Jamie's and kicked him in the shin suddenly, making him jump and spill his beer all over the table.

She pulled her feet back under the stool.

"Whats wrong with ye?" Murdoch demanded of him.

"I bit my tongue."

Elsie smirked into her wine glass, amused by the situation.

"You clumbsy oaf." Murdoch shook his head.

"I best go see if Alec needs anything else." Jamie excused himself, leaving the table.

Elsie smirked after him, turning back to her meal. That had certainly livened things up a little. She looked up to see Murdoch sitting across from her, surveying her sternly.

"Hey, if you're teasing the lad about Laoghaire, if her father of Colum comes to hear about it young Jamie could get more than a bloodied nose." He threatened.

"Like a wife?" Elise retorted, head held high.

"Maybe." Murdoch agreed. "But she's no the wife he should have.

"No?"

"He needs a woman, no a lassie and Laoghaire will be a girl until she's fifty." Murdoch griped. "And I've been around long enough to know the difference fairly well. And so do you, mistress."

With that he got up and walked away, the taste that was left in Elsie's mouth was somewhat bitter. She felt like a scolded child, which she supposed was the role that she had been playing, toying with Jamie.

She had enjoyed the feeling of teasing Jamie, of watching him shift with discomfort, because she was jealous. She had known from the second that she had seen the two together that she was jealous. Jamie had ignited butterflies in her stomach in a way that she didn't think was possible. She missed Graeme. She didn't know why, given the circumstances that they had left things in. She knew that he was not going to be there to go back to, but she missed their casual affection.

She missed knowing that there was someone out there who had her back, and whose back she had. They were team, once upon a time. Now she didn't have anyone. She was alone here, and Jamie had made her forget that for a moment. But she was just a silly girl. One of many. She ought to have known it wasn't anything special.

* * *

a/n: I know that this is a fairly short chapter, but it seemed a good place to end it with the contrast of last chapter! And (semi) regular update! :) Leave me a review to tell me what you think!


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